All is Bright
by AlaskanFan
Summary: A Christmas episode for Season 3. Terrorists threaten D.C. (In "Santa's Got a Brand New Bag" (Season 4), Lee references their Christmas tradition of being trapped in a "nest of killers" and Dotty exclaims that "Just once, I would like to have my daughter home on time on Christmas Eve." Those two comments just begged for some fan fiction covering Christmas for Seasons 2 and 3.)
1. Prologue

**All is Bright** – by AlaskanFan

A Christmas episode for Season 3. In "Santa's Got a Brand New Bag" (Season 4), Lee references their Christmas tradition of being trapped in a "nest of killers" and Dotty exclaims that "Just once, I would like to have my daughter home on time on Christmas Eve." Those two comments just begged for some fan fiction covering Christmas for Seasons 2 and 3. My story "A Surprising Package" covered Season 2, but the two stories stand alone.

Setting: Season 3

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Enterprises own these wonderful characters. All I get from writing about them is the chance to visit with Lee and Amanda from time to time.

 **All is Bright** – by AlaskanFan

 **PROLOGUE**

On June 14, 1985, TWA flight #847 was hijacked following takeoff from Athens, Greece. American and Jewish passengers were singled out for harsh treatment by the terrorists. Various passengers were beaten and 40 were taken hostage for 2 weeks. One American, a Navy SEAL, was killed. The Lebanese terrorists achieved the release of political prisoners from Greece and Israel, and walked away without prosecution.

On October 7,1985, the Achille Lauro was hijacked by Palestinian terrorists while it was in Egyptian waters. The only murder victim was American.

American outrage over the lack of justice in the TWA hijacking prompted a strong American response to the terrorism involving the Achille Lauro. President Reagan ordered the Navy's SEAL Team Six and Delta Force to be on "stand by" for a possible rescue attempt of the hostages aboard the ship.

Egypt was squeezed between its Arab neighbors, who urged leniency towards the terrorists, and its Western allies, who urged harsh reprisals. Egypt negotiated the release of the ship and all passengers (except for the murdered American, of course), in exchange for providing a safe flight to Tunisia for the hijackers (which would again prevent prosecution).

American fighter aircraft intercepted the Egyptian flight and forced it to land at a NATO airbase in Sicily, Italy. At this point, the Italian government claimed jurisdiction over the hijackers (since the ship was registered in Italy) and resisted American military attempts to take the terrorists into U.S. custody. There was a tense stand-off as American forces surrounded the plane and Italian forces surrounded the Americans while their respective governments disputed prosecution. The U.S. forces were assured that the terrorists would be tried for murder so they agreed to let the Italians take charge. In the process, some terrorists were allowed to return to Tunisia without penalty. Like Egypt, the Italian government was caught in a vice trying to balance Arabic interests with American interests.

The Egyptian government was outraged that their negotiations with the terrorists had been overturned by American actions. The Italian government was divided and left in turmoil over the controversial management of the issue. No one was satisfied with the outcome.

On November 23, 1985, EgyptAir Flight #648 was hijacked by a Palestinian splinter group, the same aircraft that had been diverted to the NATO airbase in October. This time the flight landed on the island of Malta. Again, American and Jewish passengers were identified for brutal treatment. One American and one Israeli were killed. Two Americans and one Israeli were shot but survived. American assistance in the tense situation was refused. The crisis was badly mismanaged and 58 people died in the incident. The remaining 37 passengers and crew sustained various injuries.

Media around the Mediterranean managed to report the incidents in a way that spread the blame in varying degrees between the terrorists and the Americans.

Meanwhile, an exclusive group of black robed men in Tehran, Iran debated how to best chasten "The Great Satan." Iran was a significant world player in financing terrorism and its goals included destabilizing the Middle East, eliminating Israel ("The Little Satan") and terminating the involvement of the United States ("The Great Satan") in Middle Eastern affairs.

In mid-October, one voice rose above all others, commanding attention, "I have a plan that will bring The Great Satan to its knees and cause The Little Satan to tremble. Hijacking? Bombing? Pfft – they mean nothing to The Great Satan. We will take the battle to their soil. They will learn to keep out of our business."


	2. Wednesday, Dec 18

**Wednesday, December 18, 1985**

 **Arlington**

"Philip, I really like your essay, but I suggest you check the spelling on some of those words." Amanda was in a hurry, but supervising homework was a high priority. She handed the page back to Philip with one hand and pointed to the dictionary with the other.

"What did I misspell?"

"It's your homework, and your grade. I'll let you figure out which words are wrong." She ruffled his hair before he could duck out of reach and turned to her younger son. "Jamie, when is that history report due?"

"Not until Friday. I'll be finished with it tomorrow night." Jamie looked up from his homework. "I'm almost finished with my math. After that, can I have some ice cream?"

"Yeah, me too." said Philip, eager for his share of dessert.

"I think a small bowl of ice cream for each of you would be fine _after_ homework. Don't let me find an empty carton when I get home."

"Sure mom." Two happy boys settled down to finish as quickly as possible.

Amanda moved to the coat closet hoping to cover her clothes with her coat before her mother could see her. She was too late.

"Amanda, dressing all in black like that makes you look like a cat burglar. Don't you want to wear a scarf or a vest with it to add some color?"

"No, mother. I'm going to an office party and we're supposed to dress up like villains. I'll be in costume as Cat Woman." Previous comments about her "cat burglar outfit" had given her enough warning to think about this excuse in advance.

"A costume party at Christmas?" Dotty's skepticism was evident in her tone.

"Mother, it's a film company." Amanda answered patiently.

"Cool idea! I could dress like the Riddler next Halloween." Philip's imagination was in overdrive.

"I wanna be the Riddler," said Jamie.

"I already picked it. You can be the Penguin."

"The Penguin's goofy. I don't have to be the Penguin, do I, mom?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. Halloween is a long time from now and you can pick anything you want. No ice cream until homework is finished. Don't forget to brush your teeth before bed. Listen to your grandmother." After a flurry of hugs and good-byes, Amanda was finally out the door, arriving at the curb just as Lee Stetson pulled up.

"Hi. Good timing. I just got away. I was afraid I'd keep you waiting." Amanda's words poured out like water. Her eyes shone with excitement about working with Lee tonight.

"Hello, yourself. Did you bring a flashlight?" He barely stopped to let her in the car and had pulled away from the curb before she had fastened her seat belt. She had kept him waiting, but Lee didn't want to mention it. He always arrived early and parked out of sight, with the merest glimpse of her front door. As soon as she opened her door, he moved to pick her up. He preferred to let her think that he had uncanny timing, rather than let her know that he catered to her schedule so precisely. He, too, was dressed all in black.

Finished with the seat belt, she patted the pockets of her coat and said, "Flashlight, rubber gloves, and lock picks. Yep, it's all here." Her enthusiasm always amused him.

"Grab my flashlight from the glove compartment and replace the batteries for me." He tossed a small but heavy bag into her lap which contained a pack of new batteries. He flashed her a smile to soften the demand into a request.

"So, have you confirmed that the Detwilers are at the Embassy ball?"

"Yeah, this should be an easy in-and-out assignment. We just need to find the papers and photograph them, and since no one is home, we don't have to rush. It should have been a rookie assignment." Lee complained about being assigned to search the home, but the truth is that he asked for this part of the operation. Since Amanda's ex-husband had returned to the States a couple of weeks ago, he wasn't quite sure about the status of their relationship. He had been careful to modify an assignment with Amanda last week where they would have posed as husband and wife, and suggested that they be assigned as brother and sister instead. Billy's eyebrows had raised only slightly at Lee's suggestion, but his interest rose a lot higher than his eyebrows did. He approved the brother/sister scenario without questioning Lee's motives.

Lee usually looked forward to attending gala assignments with Amanda. Their recent sail on the Mata Hari seemed to signal a more personal relationship which was quite alright with Lee. The new possibility that she was rekindling a romance with Joe made him wary of ballrooms and dancing for the moment. Lee couldn't bear the thought of attending an Embassy ball with Amanda, when it was possible that she would treat him politely as a fond acquaintance, rather than enjoying the closer relationship which had been developing between them. So, to Billy's amused surprise, Lee privately asked to search the home, rather than provide security at the ball. As a bonus, he got time with Amanda alone, instead of sharing her in the midst of lecherous competitors. If the job ended soon enough, maybe they would have time for coffee.

* * *

 **Detwiler Home**

The short drive across town passed in amiable conversation. Lee laughed at Amanda's explanation to Dotty about being dressed as Cat Woman, and enjoyed hearing about her busy evening. The mood sobered as Lee pulled into the driveway of an elegant home. He smoothly pulled around to the back of the house to avoid being seen from the street. Looking around carefully, they approached the back door. Amanda stuffed her hair under a black cap as she walked. Lee bent to enter the code to by-pass the security system and grunted, puzzled.

"What's wrong?" Amanda asked.

"They must have forgotten to set the alarm system." Lee shrugged, "No problem. Makes it easier for us to get in." He grinned as he pulled out his lock picks and quietly set to work. Moments later, they were in the home climbing the stairs towards the study on the second floor. At the top of the stairs, they turned to the left and walked down the hall towards the front of the house.

Behind the desk in the study was a heavy wooden plaque which had been carved to show the logo of Detwiler Industries with the familiar claim "Food Service Leader". Lee lifted the plaque from the wall and leaned it against the desk. The safe was behind the plaque. He attached a device beside the dial and began twisting the dial clockwise, allowing the device to direct his movements. Within seconds, the safe was opened and Lee extracted a thick manual and several files. He adjusted the items on the desk to provide good lighting and enough room to spread out the file folders. He turned back to the safe and withdrew two other small objects.

"Lee, we're here for the documents. It's not polite to keep snooping into his personal and private things."

"A-man-da, anything in here might shed light on his connections and motives. We need to see whatever he thinks is important enough to hide in a safe."

The first object was a carved wooden box containing several gorgeous pieces of jewelry. Even in the dim light of their flashlights, the gems blazed and glittered. Amanda raised her eyebrows and nodded in admiration. The other object was a small bag of fine white powder.

"Oh, so that's how it is." Lee said, as comprehension spread across his face.

"What is that?" asked Amanda.

"Well, he wouldn't hide face powder or flour in a safe, now would he? What do you think it is, Amanda?" Lee teased. Her innocence, even after 2 years in this business, continuously amazed him. It was both endearing and exasperating.

"Oh, my gosh! You think that's some kind of illegal drug." Lee tapped the end of his nose to indicate that she had guessed right. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged her right shoulder. He took a few photos of the bag of powder and box of jewelry, then replaced them in the safe.

He spread the documents on the desk, turned on the desk lamp, and began taking photographs, assembling evidence which would be necessary to convict Detwiler and stop his betrayal. Amanda turned to the file cabinet beside the desk and picked the lock to open it. She examined the file labels and randomly glanced at the contents of a few files. The labels matched the contents and nothing looked suspicious.

"Lee, I know Detwiler Industries provides food service to schools and hospitals, but what does that have to do with national security?" Amanda had read the Agency file, but the implications weren't always clear to her.

"Well, they could certainly cause problems just selling food to institutions like that, but they also happen to be the largest supplier of Meals Ready to Eat for the Department of Defense. Just imagine how dangerous it would be for hallucinogens to be sprinkled into the MRE's of a field unit, or if someone contaminated the food with a bacteria that could cause an entire Special Operations Team to have digestive problems at the same time. The results could be devastating to a delicate mission."

"And we have information that Mr. Detwiler might endanger his own food supply? Lee, that doesn't make sense. It's like killing the goose that laid the golden egg." She moved from the file cabinet to the desk. The desk wasn't even locked, and again, nothing looked out of place.

"If someone promises more money, or has enough leverage for blackmail, he might do it. Or, in this case, he might supply enough information for someone else to do it. A drug habit is an expensive hobby." Lee finished snapping the photos and returned the documents to the safe. He then closed the door and returned the plaque to the wall.

Amanda finished looking through the desk drawers and glanced at the items on the surface of the desk as Lee moved them back into their original positions. She picked up a photo frame from the desk.

"His wife is certainly beautiful, but she looks several years younger than he does. You don't suppose that would be his daughter, would you? Not in an embrace like that."

"No, the original Mrs. Detwiler died a number of years ago, and he's been divorced twice since then. I think the woman in that photo is his current love interest, but he's not married. According to our research, she's Pamela Spolito and has distant connections to one of the big Mob families. That was one of the red flags that brought Detwiler Industries to our attention."

Suddenly, light blazed in the room as the overhead lights flicked on. "Right you are, hot shot. Now move away from the desk where I can see you." Both Lee and Amanda had let down their guard during their conversation and were surprised by the nasal voice. They looked up from the photograph to see two men in the doorway, each aiming a pistol at them. They both wore the ill-fitting suits and flashy jewelry common to people with too much money and not enough sense. The taller had a tidy mustache and the shorter one had a receding hairline and an expanding paunch. The tall one jerked his head, directing them to move away from the windows, towards a cluster of large planters. As they complied with his demands, he continued. "Let's start with who you are and your interest in our absent host."

Lee wanted to keep the man talking while he figured out a way to protect Amanda and escape. "Better yet, _you_ tell _us_ how you got in, and what you're doing in a private residence."

A bark of laughter was the initial response followed by a cynical answer. "I used the key in my pocket to get in. As to why we're here, the answer is that I have Detwiler in my pocket, too." He nudged his brawny companion as if sharing a joke and the other man laughed dutifully.

"That's a good one, bro" he obliged.

"You might be less cocky, if your lady friend wasn't beside you. I think separating you two is a good idea." He glanced at his lackey, who moved forward to seize Amanda's arm, twist it behind her back, and back across the room towards the window. Then, several things happened at once.

A long arm reached from behind the curtain swinging a billy club and knocked out the lackey. Amanda stomped on her captor's foot and lunged away from his grasp towards Lee. Lee took advantage of the distraction to kick the gun away from the tall thug and then knocked him out with a ridge hand chop to the side of his neck.

"Are you alright?" Lee and Amanda asked simultaneously, while inspecting one another for damage.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." They answered in unison, as they looked into each other's eyes assuringly.

"Who else is in here?" Lee suddenly realized that he had seen someone or something hit the thug holding Amanda. Lee exchanged his flashlight for his pistol. He strode to the window and yanked aside the curtains directly behind where Amanda had been standing.

A tall, thin man dressed in black holding a billy club had his hands raised and said hurriedly, "Let's talk."

* * *

Amanda held a gun on the stranger, hoping desperately that she wouldn't have to use it. Lee judged that the gun was only a formality, since the stranger didn't show any signs of panic or belligerence. He kept one eye on the lanky man while he handcuffed the two intruders to legs of the desk. He took the gun from Amanda and nodded to the stranger, "Okay, talk."

With his hands still raised, the man replied, "Not here. I can't risk them waking up and seeing me here."

Lee wished he had another set of handcuffs to control this fellow, but had to settle for intimidating him at gunpoint. "Amanda," he said without turning to look at her, "follow us downstairs." That way, she could watch his back and he would be between her and the stranger. He jerked his head and stepped aside, allowing the stranger to pass him and lead the way down the hall and then downstairs. They halted at the bottom of the stairs and Lee gestured for the stranger to sit on a decorative bench in the entryway. Amanda stood just behind Lee. The half moon shone brightly through the large windows and its light was reflected from the pale tile floor and the gleaming wood paneling, making their flashlights unnecessary.

"Talk," Lee demanded. Lee stood between the stranger and the front door with good visibility both up the stairs and along the hall to other ground floor rooms. The large windows allowed plenty of moonlight to illumine the space and the polished paneling reflected the glow. He was fairly sure the man wouldn't try to run, but he maintained his aim for insurance.

Keeping his voice low, and dividing his attention between Lee's gun and any possible noise from the men in the study, the lanky stranger rubbed his jaw roughly and started talking. "The men upstairs are the Borsellino brothers. They are moving up in the Mob hierarchy and would kill me if they learn that I'm here. I think they just got promoted to D.C. from Toledo; you know, new in town. I'm not asking for long term protection, but I'm willing to tell you everything I know about them if you'll just help me get away without revealing my role to them."

"Tell us what you know, and I'll decide if it's a fair trade." Lee wasn't making this easy on the stranger. "Let's start with your name and why you're here."

"That's the question of the night, isn't it?" He hoped the feeble joke would lighten the atmosphere. He was disappointed. The gun never wavered and it made him nervous. He tugged at the collar of his black turtle-neck, rubbed his damp palms against his thighs and nodded once.

"I'm generally known as Fritz the Cat – as in, cat burglar. I had just entered the bedroom window when you drove up behind the house. You noticed that the alarm system wasn't working. Detwiler didn't forget to set it; I disabled it. Since I was already in the house, I decided to wait until you finished your business and left, and then take care of my own business. I've never met the Borsellinos, but I've seen them around and recognized the voice. Giovanni is the brains; Salvatore is the muscle. I'm not into violence. That's why I only carry a billy club, mostly for protection against dogs. When it looked like Borsellino was settling in for the evening, and the pretty lady here was being threatened, I figured that I needed to change my plans." Fritz nodded towards Amanda, and noticed that Lee bristled.

"What exactly was your plan for the evening?"

"The family jewels, of course. The Mob helps me, uh..., move the merchandise, so to speak. They will see our little conversation as betrayal, not to mention my defense of the lady."

"Why should I believe that you aren't participating in whatever scheme they had with Detwiler?"

"I'm talking to you, now, that's why." For the first time, Fritz showed a noticeable increase in anxiety. It is very difficult to prove ignorance. He eyed the gun with concern.

"Lee, he did help rescue us." To Fritz's relief, Amanda provided some unexpected assistance.

"I know, and I appreciate that. I'm just wondering what's in it for him." Lee loomed over Fritz aggressively. He needed more information to decide what to do with this complication. It should have been an easy, evidence-gathering assignment. Now he had two Mob boys and a cat burglar to deal with. Holding the gun steady in his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with his right. One of the challenges with interrogations is determining when the source had given you all relevant information. He was fairly certain this guy hadn't finished spilling all he knew. He needed to ask the right questions to elicit more information.

Fritz spoke into the silence, "Retirement."

Lee wrinkled his brow, wondering if he had heard correctly. "Retirement?"

"Yeah. You see, I'm getting grayer, slower. I need a new career. You're what? Feds of some kind?"

Lee wasn't inclined to start answering questions, but he decided it was a strategic time to establish the authority of the United States Government. "Yes, we're federal agents. What do you have in mind? There aren't any Federal employment postings for cat burglars."

"No. No, I wouldn't think so. I did say I'm ready for a career change. It occurred to me that I would be an excellent security consultant. After all, I know every security system on the market and how to beat 'em. I just need to establish a new reputation for the next 5 years."

"Why 5 years?" Amanda wasn't sure what Fritz was suggesting.

"Statute of Limitations, Amanda. If Fritz isn't convicted of burglary in 5 years, none of his crimes can come back to haunt him."

"I figure what I need is a partner who can vouch for my honesty, while I demonstrate my usefulness in security issues. Based on your recommendations, other feds and the local law might find reasons to use my services as well. It would be the beginning of a whole new life for me. Wouldn't you like to be part of a criminal rehabilitation program?" Fritz smiled in what he hoped was a persuasive manner. He was accustomed to taking what he wanted by stealth, not negotiating terms at a bargaining table.

"Oh, right. You'd get inside the system and have all sorts of information for bigger and better crimes! No deal." Lee snorted in disbelief. He was ready to wrap up this evening, but he just wasn't quite sure what to do with Fritz. The agent was inclined to let him go as a favor for his help this evening. After all, Fritz hadn't actually stolen the jewels tonight and didn't seem to be a threat to national security at the moment.

"No. I'm serious about retiring. I've been thinking about it for weeks. I just couldn't figure out how to cross the line from criminal to collaborator. I know things you need to know, but I didn't know who to tell." Having taken the risk to "test the water," Fritz was desperate to prove his good intentions. This was an all-or-nothing moment and he was not holding back. "Listen to me." His eyes narrowed with urgency and his voice dropped even quieter. "The Mob is planning a big operation for New Year's Eve. They call it "Candle Snuffer" and it's so big it's scary. They plan to take out the power grid just after midnight and simultaneously break into several government facilities. Even if they don't score at each target, they will come away with enough munitions or secrets to be rolling in cash."

"Damn! That's in two week. Just by breaking in, they will compromise security codes and keep us scrambling for months. You're right. That IS big." Lee was briefly distracted by the implications of such an audacious plan. The phone rang once, interrupting his thoughts. The caller hung up after one ring and Lee tucked his gun in its holster.

When the phone rang again one minute later, Lee answered immediately, "Billy?... Yeah, we got the pictures but there were some minor complications. Detwiler might be into drugs, too. We found a small stash of powder. And there are two rats handcuffed in the study. We need them picked up... Okay, we'll wait here until the team arrives and then we'll come to the office... Yeah, that's good."

He hung up the phone and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a business card and offered it to Fritz. He replaced his wallet in his pocket and zipped his jacket as he explained. "I want to know everything you know and everything you learn about this so-called Mob operation. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and keep your name out of it tonight and let you get out of here before anyone else arrives. If you cross me on this, it will be your last time. How can I find you?"

Fritz relaxed noticeably in relief. "I can't be seen with you, but I'll be in touch." The lanky man shifted his weight as if to stand and was halted by a firm grip on both shoulders.

"That's not good enough," growled Lee, as he shoved hard to force Fritz to stay seated. "You meet me tomorrow at 11:30 near the hot dog stand at the Lincoln Memorial. Get in line behind me and we'll share a picnic bench." He jabbed Fritz's chest to emphasis his last point. "If you aren't there, every police officer in D.C. will be hunting you by dinner time."

"I'll be there. I know I have to prove myself, but I _will_ prove true." Fritz did not appear to be disturbed by Lee's rough treatment or his threats.

"Be sure that you do. You can go now." Lee stepped back and put both hands on his hips.

Amanda moved forward with a warm smile and offered a hand to Fritz. "Thank you for rescuing me this evening. Good luck with your new beginning."

Fritz shook her hand briefly and smiled in return. "You're welcome." He turned back to Lee. "If it's okay with you, I'll leave the way I came. I need to erase my tracks." At Lee's nod, he lightly ran up the stairs and slipped into the bedroom on the right.

Lee motioned for Amanda to be quiet and listen. Despite the efforts of both agents, they heard no betraying sounds as Fritz left. After several minutes Lee said, "He's good. Probably very successful. I hope I don't regret that." Then he shrugged his shoulders dismissing the cat burglar.

"Let's go see if the brothers have woken up yet. I have some questions for them." Lee held out his hand with a smile. "Remember, we don't mention Fritz until I'm ready to tell Billy about it tomorrow afternoon. We need to keep his name out of tonight's affairs."

Amanda clasped his hand and nodded in agreement. "Sure thing, partner, lead the way."

* * *

 **MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN**

 **in an elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

"Gentlemen, it is good that you could come. Can I offer some fruit juice or perhaps hot tea?" Abdul Tariq enjoyed the comforts of an elegant house in Cleveland Park, part of the Embassy Row area of Washington, D.C.. Its owners were generous in loaning it for a good cause and discrete about leaving town. It was a good arrangement when official government channels could not be used.

Luigi Crocetta smiled and accepted the offer of tea. Inwardly he sneered, thinking that any civilized nation would have offered wine. He was pleased to be involved in any attempt to embarrass the Americans after their despicable behavior in October after the Achille Lauro incident. The Americans were always heavy-handed in pushing their agenda, but holding the Italian Carabinieri at bay for several hours on Italian soil was totally unacceptable. They must be taught a lesson. He brushed his hand lightly along his closely cropped black hair, and then smoothed his trim mustache.

Mustafa Boghdadi had similar thoughts as he accepted a tall glass of orange juice. His government had suffered great humiliation when the negotiated safe passage of the hijackers had been countermanded by the U.S. special forces. His black eyes glittered with malice as he anticipated the retribution due to the overbearing Americans.

After a lengthy delay of small talk and social pleasantries, the turbaned old man simply asked, "Updates?"

Crocetta suppressed a sigh of relief and edged forward in his chair, eager to get down to business. "We have organized teams among sympathetic families which will work as close-knit units. Each team will be cloaked in its own secrecy, but be joined by a common desire to execute justice against those who dare to interfere in Mediterranean affairs." At this point, most of the teams were Sicilians, but he was working to enlist other Families to the project.

"How many teams?"

"At this date, we have at least 15 committed teams, and others are considering the proposal."

"Can you trust so many with this information? Do they understand that they will each work under the direction of one of my men?" The extensive social pleasantries were a mere vapor compared to the biting edge of dominance in the question.

Crocetta's adrenaline rose in answer to the challenge. He loved a good fight and thought himself the equal of any man. He had a reputation growing up for never backing down from a fight and his menacing physique had insured that few challenged him as an adult. "I believe that we have always referred to a _partnership_ of our manpower with your strategies. I have made it clear that your men will be _partnering_ with each team to infiltrate the designated sites and retrieve the targeted items." The barely veiled distrust had hindered this alliance from the beginning. He reminded himself that one didn't have to like the tools to get the job done. He casually took another sip of tea, hoping to convey the impression of a man in control. "Don't worry about word being leaked. The Mob knows how to keep secrets."

"Yes, of course." The polite smile managed to maintain a shred of courtesy while conveying a hint of contempt. His supporters in Iran had particularly liked the international angle for this operation. In vain had he argued that broader involvement allowed more possibilities of failure. Their organization was only a modest cell of the large network of "The Mobilization of the Oppressed" or "Basij." The success or failure of this operation could make or break his leadership of their cell, and subsequently affect his own advancement in the party hierarchy. To think that his life's ambitions rested in the hands of this Italian was appalling. After several seconds of gazing silently at the muscular man, the old man turned to the Egyptian.

"Boghdadi?"

The Egyptian battled with his intellect, rather than his muscles. As a slender man, he valued dexterity and sleight-of-hand to open combat. "We have stockpiled plastique explosives and the various tools requested. It should be a simple matter to arrange transfers to your men in a timely manner." The slight pause and raised eyebrow before the phrase "your men" was intended to convey a message. It had required careful management to amass so much plastique _discreetly_ and he was relieved to have accomplished his assignment before the deadline. He had experience dealing with these Iranians and treated them warily. Their methods were extreme, but effective, and he was willing to risk much in sharing their goals. He only hoped to avoid risking all. In his opinion, the Italian was grossly mistaken in the equality of the supposed "partnership" and was foolishly wading in crocodile infested waters. Wisely, he kept his opinion to himself.

Tariq noticed the subtle deference and smiled slightly in approval. Not surprisingly, the Egyptian had a better grasp of the balance of power than the Italian. He had specified that the explosives were available for "your men" not "the teams." There was no possibility that the Iranians or Egyptians would allow the Italian teams to control the plastique. The Mob was useful for muscle, but not a genuine ally. Like all Western nations, their arrogance resulted in significantly underestimating the ancient civilizations of the world. Regrettably, he would have to work with the tools available, even if they were not tools of his choice. Iran simply did not have the manpower in America that the Italian mob could command.


	3. Thursday, Dec 19

**Thursday,** **December 19**

 **Q Bureau**

Despite the late debriefing, Amanda still had to get the boys off to school, so she showed up at the Agency at her usual time. She was cheerfully working in the Q Bureau when Lee arrived at 9:30.

"Amanda, what is all of this?" The complaint started before he actually stepped into the office. He was wearing her favorite blue pinstripe suit, with a blue shirt and a navy tie featuring white fleurs-de-lis.

"Christmas decorations," she answered in surprise. "You said I could put a few in here."

"I meant one or two small things."

"Oh, no, no, no. You said 'a few' and that's easily three to five items. Don't change your mind now and make it 'one or two.' Besides, you'll hardly even notice." She finished taping the last of the garland around the vault door and returned the tape dispenser to his desk. She tidied her floral scarf so that it lay more smoothly along her shoulder over her white blouse and patted her hair.

"It's my office, not a display center. I'm trying to get work done in here." The handsome agent continued grousing as he stomped around the office getting his coffee and glaring at the offensive decor. He flung himself in his chair in disgust. The picture behind his desk had been replaced with a fragrant wreath sporting pine cones and a red bow, there was a braided rope of jingle bells on the Film Library door, a red and silver garland surrounding the vault door, and a ceramic Christmas tree beside the phone on his desk.

"Le-ee, don't be like that." She perched on the corner of the desk, modestly spreading her pink skirt over her knees, and picked up the ceramic Christmas tree. "This is a very special decoration and mother always puts it on the mantel. I had to sneak it out of the house this morning to bring it to you. I knew you didn't want a large tree, but this tiny little one barely takes up any space at all. I made it when I was 14 years old. See, it has all of these little colored beads that fit in the tiny holes and with the light inside turned on like this, they all look like a strand of Christmas lights."

"That's just my point. There must be at least two dozen little tiny lights. That's more than a few, Amanda."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lee. A little Christmas cheer might be nice, once you get used to it." She paused and sighed. "If I promise to not bring in anything else, will you keep what I've already brought?" Her luminous brown eyes gazed at him with that trusting look that he couldn't bear to disappoint.

"Okay. Alright. It can stay." He emphasized his next point with a pointing finger, "But don't bring in one more thing." He spoke firmly to let her know that just because he was giving in this time, she couldn't always expect to have her own way.

"I promise, only you might regret it, because I planned to bring an apple pie for the bullpen tomorrow and now I can't bring you one." As she was talking, she hopped off the desk and whisked out of the room before he could say anything else.

* * *

Lee finished his coffee while looking through the morning's messages. He visited interrogation to see what information they were fishing out of the Borsellino brothers. He needed more information about "Candle Snuffer" before he could start questioning them, but maybe they were the kind who liked to give hints about bigger operations to mock the authorities. Guys like that always gave away more than they suspected and made Lee's job easier. So far, they hadn't said much, not even about Detwiler.

He made a few calls to find T.P. and made arrangements to visit him prior to the lunch appointment with Fritz. With a spring in his step, he entered the bullpen, eager to see Amanda again.

"Let's go check some of my sources before lunch."

She had been intent on her typing but as she heard his voice, she looked up at him and her look of concentration transformed into a smile of welcome. "All right. Just let me finish this last paragraph and give this report to Mr. Melrose."

"I'll meet you in the foyer. Oh, and bring a camera."

* * *

 **T.P's Office**

"Good morning, T.P."

"Good morning, Lee. And you brought your delightful partner with you. Good morning, Mrs. King." T.P. wore a red sweater vest with a tiny Christmas tree stitched above his heart over a green and red plaid shirt.

"Good morning, T.P." Amanda's smile acknowledged the gentleman's compliment.

"Can I interest you in the finest Israeli citrus? An acquaintance sends me a large basket every year as a Christmas gift." He smiled genially at his guests and adjusted his glasses.

"It smells heavenly, T.P., thank you." Amanda helped herself to an orange and tucked it into her purse for an afternoon treat. Lee barely acknowledged the man's offer as he plunged into business.

"We're following up a possible lead that the Mob is planning something rather large and unusual. Have you heard any rumblings about that?"

"Well, it's a given that the Mob is always planning something, but how large and unusual can it be?" T.P.'s hand hovered over the basket for a moment before he selected a tangerine and began peeling it. The tangy scent filled the small office.

"The rumor we heard is that they will take out the power grid and then simultaneously hit several government facilities. Multiple strikes is fairly ambitious, and attacking the electrical grid is not their typical operation."

"My goodness, Lee, that is an audacious plan. I'll put out some feelers and see if I can confirm that for you." The antiquarian was concerned enough to have paused a section of tangerine midway to his mouth for several seconds. He recovered enough to pop it into his mouth and savor its flavor before adding, "You will be careful, won't you? The Mob doesn't play nice on a good day. If they are arrogant enough to formulate such a plan, they will be even nastier than usual."

"Sure, T.P. One other thing. Have you ever heard of Fritz the Cat?" Lee dismissed the first topic and abruptly changed subjects.

"Certainly. Well-known cat burglar. Known more by reputation than appearance. Has the distinction of never serving time for his deeds."

"It may be that the leopard is trying to change his spots. Any idea if I could get any leverage over him? Any way to determine whether he's playing straight with us?"

"Is he the source of this Mob rumor? That's interesting!" Amanda could almost see the gears turning in T.P.'s mind as he absorbed this new information and considered its consequences.

"Yeah. I need to figure out how much to trust him."

"I can check on that, too, Lee." He tossed the tangerine peel into the trash can eager to tackle the puzzles Lee had presented. He was searching for contact information through his Rolodex as the two agents let themselves out of his office.

* * *

 **Lincoln Memorial Hot Dog Stand**

Amanda buttoned the top button of her black coat, and pulled her scarf around her neck more snugly. It was the red and white striped scarf that Lee had given her for Christmas last year. She liked to think of it as a hug. She pulled on a thin pair of gloves.

"I don't know whether we can trust Fritz or not, and I don't want to risk your being seen with him. You stay off to the side watching for anyone who has too much interest in us. Use the tourist cover to get photos of anyone we might need to identify." Lee couldn't resist pulling Amanda's coat collar up to give her more protection against the slight wind. December was a chill time for outdoor lunches. "I'll give you a head start and follow in about 5 minutes. Remember, the hot dog stand at the Lincoln."

"Sure, Lee, but I'll need some hot soup to take back to the office to warm up." He tapped the end of her nose in response, and with one hand on her shoulder turned her toward the Mall. It was a clear day and the bare tree branches were etched sharply against the bright sky.

He approached the monument from a different angle than Amanda had, scanning the scant pedestrians. There were more pigeons than pedestrians on this wintry day. He gave extra attention to clean-up personnel and vendors. He would know if any of them wandered too close while he was meeting with Fritz. He didn't see Fritz, so he slowed his walk, giving the man more time. Fritz appeared punctually at 11:30, so Lee paused to admire the view, letting Fritz get closer to the hot dog stand. Lee timed it well, and arrived at the vendor mere seconds before the cat burglar did. He paid for his order and sauntered to a park bench to enjoy his meal. As he opened the small hole in the lid of his hot chocolate, Fritz settled on the other end of the bench. Without facing each other and masking the movement of their lips by the business of eating and drinking, they conferred.

"It's good you could make it."

"I told you, you can trust me, my friend."

"Start talking and tell me everything you know about this operation. Don't make me dig it out of you."

The lanky man nodded and swallowed a bite of food, "I'm ready for you. I made some notes that I can pass you, along with contact information. I am intentionally not easy to find for professional reasons, but there are a few resources who can get word to me."

"You can pass me the notes when I offer to throw away your trash. Tell me names, dates, details."

"On Monday, December 9, I met with my usual contact to pass off the merchandise from the prior weekend. We meet at a bar, and on this occasion my contact had maybe been drinking a tad too much before I arrived. As we chatted, he got real confidential, like he wanted to impress me, and said that he could make my New Year's Eve really profitable. Since the Mob skims a portion of my 'take' my gain is their gain, so they sometimes point me to a wealthy target. This time he didn't mention a particular target, but a particular date. He said they were getting the word out to their trusted associates that a power outage would be arranged for midnight on New Year's Eve. Therefore, commercial businesses which depend on electronic surveillance would be vulnerable for anyone prepared to take advantage of such an opportunity. I was mellow and he was mellow so I asked, how can you arrange a power outage? He said, they'll go to the source and take down the grid. I marveled at the scale of the plan and that's when my contact blurted out the rest of the scheme."

Fritz paused his report as a cluster of young men sauntered past, heartily arguing football statistics and scattering the pigeons. He resumed, "I think he was supposed to tell me about the outage and get my participation in the night's events. I don't think he was supposed to tell me this last part. He said that while I'm stealing jewels, other parties will be stealing secrets. He nodded several times and started looking around as if he was afraid that he was being watched, but he couldn't stop his mouth. He said they would look for code books and top secret files and weaponry blueprints. He said moving vans would clean out munition facilities and bio-chemical sites. He kept saying, 'What Baa-seeg wants, Baa-seeg gets.' Well, my friend, I didn't know what to do. If the Mob knew he had told me so much, they'd kill him and then come after me. He finally stopped talking, and I acted real friendly and suggested we go somewhere nice for dinner. I said it was a celebration before the big event on New Year's Eve. He agreed and I kept close to him for the evening until he started sobering up enough to talk sense. When he got his wits back, I asked a few careful questions to see what he remembered telling me. When I hinted that the power outage might cover more than a few jewelry heists, he looked at me suspiciously and scoffed at the suggestion. I don't think he remembers all he said. I've been watching my back pretty closely for the past week, and I haven't met with any fatal accidents, so far, so I think I'm safe for now."

"Did he mention any specific targets? This 'Baa-seeg' - is that a person or an organization?"

"He said, 'State, Pentagon, all the big ones.' He also implied that facilities with a generator backup might get special treatment. Disabling the generators, I suppose; although some generator systems take a minute or two to become effective, and by that time intruders could be past the security features. He also said, 'Everyone's involved on this one – everyone.' So it sounds like a really big operation. I didn't ask about Baa-seeg. I figured the less I know about that, the better for me."

The agent finished chewing and swirled the hot chocolate in its cup. He swallowed and drained the cup, considering the information he just heard. Deciding he had no further questions at the moment, he turned and said in a louder voice, "Could I take your trash for you?"

Fritz slipped a folded piece of paper into Lee's hand along with a tidy bundle of lunch debris. "Thanks. Enjoy your day," he replied, one stranger to another. Fritz spread his long arms along the back of the bench, while Lee threw away the trash and walked briskly back to the car and Amanda.

* * *

 **Agency - Billy's Office**

Lee and Amanda returned to the Agency and went directly to the bullpen to report to Billy. Amanda put her purse in her desk and picked up a steno pad and a pen. Billy's door was open, so Lee knocked and entered at the same time. Amanda followed him a moment later, and sat in one of the chairs in front of Billy's desk, smoothing her skirt and crossing her legs. Lee remained standing beside the window, fidgeting with his tie restlessly.

Billy signed a form, closed the file and flopped it into his "out" box. "Good job, you two, on the Detwiler case. We're still working the Borsellino brothers, but the photos you took last night came out clear as day."

"Thank you, sir."

"Billy, I've heard some disturbing rumors and we've spent the last couple of hours checking them out." Lee was too wound up for small talk.

"What's up, Lee?"

"The pieces don't quite add up, but what we've found so far is troubling. There seems to be an organized effort to take down the power grid and simultaneously strike several government facilities just after midnight on New's Year Eve."

"Are you sure about that? How reliable is your source?" Billy's face furrowed in deep concern.

"It's a fairly new source, so I'm not sure he's reliable at all. T.P. is checking on the rumors and my new source, and I've put out some other feelers to see if we can get any confirmations. If it's true, we have to stop it before it gets started. Even if the targeted facilities have generator backup, substantial portions of the security systems will have a few critical seconds of failure. With the right teams and good intel, they could be positioned to wreak havoc on the U. S. Government."

"What do you know so far?"

"The rumor says that the Mob is organizing the strike and calling it "Candle Snuffer." This doesn't sound like the Mob's typical M.O., so I suspect that someone more sinister is backing the effort and selecting the sites, as well as the munitions or data to be retrieved from each site. If the power grid goes down, it will be a nightmare for federal agencies, the military and local law enforcement. The electrical system is the key piece of their plan, and we need to ensure its safety."

Billy shook his head in disgust. "Right, as of now that is your top priority and you can use Amanda as needed. Let me know if you need more resources. I'll pull people from other assignments if I need to." He turned to Amanda, "Do background checks on the officers and board members of the local power companies. Check the files to see who last performed their security review and whether issues arising from that review were resolved." As she finished writing his instructions, he turned back to Lee. "Let's find out whether information has already been leaked, and if not, let's stop it from happening. Make site visits to both power companies and see if you can find any holes in their security systems. Check your street sources and see if you can find out who's really backing this."

"My source heard the phrase 'What Baa-seeg wants, Baa-seeg gets.' He couldn't tell me whether that was a person or an organization. My concern is that it might have been the word 'Basij', which is a network of Iranian militias – individual cells headed by local clerics – which augment the Iranian army. It would be a grim turning point to learn that such a cell is operational here in D.C."

"I'll get the Middle East unit involved on this. Maybe we can meet tomorrow noon-ish and compare notes."

"Sure. That will give us some time to chase down some leads. The good news is: If the plans are leaking two weeks in advance, there should be a flood of intel in the next few days."

"Yeah, but we want to be ahead of the rumors on this one. We can't afford to sit back and hope it fizzles out."

"You got that right."

Lee put one hand on the door, ready to exit. Amanda stood up and turned to leave, but turned back to face Billy as he started talking.

"Oh, Amanda. I've seen the decorations in the Q Bureau and I think they give it a very nice touch. Good job." His eyes darted from her eyes to Lee and back again, signaling that the "good job" included both the decorations and her success in persuading Lee to permit them.

"Thank you, sir." Amanda grinned back at him, then cut her eyes to the right aiming a smug grin of triumph at Lee. Lee grimaced and rolled his eyes in disgust. He jerked his head to the right and Amanda exited the office talking as she went. "The security reviews are in the Q Bureau vault. I'll pull the files down here for the background checks, then bring them upstairs so we can compare notes."

* * *

 **MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN**

 **in an elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

"Here is the site plan of the Aberdeen Proving Ground where their army develops and tests new weapons. In this area, the bio-chemical agents are developed and stored. This cluster of buildings manufactures prototypes of new explosives and various types of bullets. This building houses the computer center with its simulations, code development, and other electronic tasks related to warfare. This location could be a goldmine, and I suggest a minimum of three teams targeting these separate areas." The tawny young man lectured like the graduate student he was. His clean-shaven face exuded sincerity and honor. His thick black hair, chiseled good looks, and erect posture made a good first impression on Americans. His team had gathered an impressive array of data, and he had enjoyed assembling the facts into usable scenarios.

"Good, good. What else do you have?"

"We have identified the file room at the U.S. State Department where all U.S. embassy blueprints and security protocols are located. One team should be assigned to this building to retrieve that information. A second team can access the Secretary of State's office and gather classified files on current negotiations – planned strategies and secret deals that the U.S. would not want to publish."

"Excellent. That would reveal the weaknesses of the Great Satan in our region, and we'd make a substantial profit selling the information to our allies around the world."

"We have similar intel for Potomac Weapons and Armaments Center, the Pentagon, even Detwiler Industries' MRE facility. We've spent months accumulating specific information for your use. It is good to see a plan forming to take advantage of our work."

"Good work, Sayeed. Our friends in Tehran are eager to reap the fruit of your efforts. Let's hope you do not disappoint them. All of this hinges on the collapse of their power grid. Are your plans certain on that detail?" The old man was as slim as a snake with a keen mind honed to exploit weakness and ruthlessly retaliate to anything he considered dishonor. He groomed his long scraggly beard as he waited for an answer. As usual, he had picked the weakest point of the plan to question.

The young man flushed under the sharp question and the close scrutiny of the black eyes. "We have studied their electrical grid and its complex interconnections with great interest. We have not finalized the precise location of the hit, but a single blow to the system will result in a chain reaction that may affect several states before the system stabilizes."

"You say 'not finalized.' Since that is the key to this entire operation, are you comfortable leaving that detail to last minute preparation?" The voice was quieter and more threatening.

"It is only a matter of days before we have the necessary blueprints in hand, and I am confident that we will not fail in this vital matter." The young protege worked hard to conceal his doubts.

"Of course, you realize that you are betting your life on that." The meeting ended on an ominous note. Sayeed hoped that his anxiety had not been evident, but he assumed it probably was. The old man seemed to know everything. The network of Basiji deployed as university students had spent months gaining the confidence of designated informants. Several plied boastful civilian workers from military bases who participated on local sports teams. Others cultivated lonely but strategically identified government employees. They had painstakingly gathered data and pieced together clues, and the careful work would finally be put to use. The old man was providing muscle to attack the facilities and reap the benefits. The only thing Sayeed had to do was blow up an electrical power substation. How hard could it be?

He wasn't squeamish. He had served admirably in the war against Iraq or he wouldn't have been promoted to serve in America. However, the recklessness of youth was giving way to the ambitions of adulthood – mainly the ambition to live. If dying was such a glorious achievement, why hadn't these old men in the government already done it? Perhaps like them, his life could be of more use than his death. If he could live _and_ bring down the power grid, that would be ideal. The Americans cared about their electricity. Their security protocols held many redundant features so that any successful attempt to bypass one obstacle would be blocked by another one. The vulnerability of the system was obvious, but exploiting that vulnerability was easier said than done. He tried to walk confidently through the elegant house to his car and was pleased to notice that the hand on the doorknob did not shake. He managed to drive a mile before he had to pull off the road. The trembling had suddenly become so intense that he could not steer safely.


	4. Friday, Dec 20

**Friday, December 20**

 **Agency Bullpen**

Amanda exited the closet elevator with her purse in one hand and her holiday goodie bag in the other. This was a square-bottom bag of dark green fabric with candy canes scattered across the fabric. The bag was bulging and emitted a lovely fragrance.

"Can I help you with that, Mrs. King?" Leatherneck's easy drawl came from behind her as he joined her in the short walk down the hall to the bullpen.

"I can manage the package, but if you help me unpack it, you'll be first in line for the treats. I know a lot of folks won't be at work next week, so I decided to bring extra today. The apple pie is still warm from the oven." Amanda enjoyed supplying baked treats for the agents who risked their lives daily to protect families like hers from a multitude of threats. It was a small gesture of appreciation, but deeply felt.

The warm apple pie was the foil wrapped bundle on top. Next was a tin of festively decorated sugar cookies, followed by a spicy pumpkin pie and a can of whipped topping. On the very bottom was a plastic container of marshmallow fudge with pecans. Many hands made light work of unloading, unwrapping and placing the delicacies along the coffee table. Paper plates, forks, and plastic knives for cutting the pies were arranged and Amanda finally escaped the fray to take off her coat and settle at her desk.

Leatherneck followed her with his plate of apple pie and perched on a corner of her desk, one leg swinging. "MM-mm-mm, delicious as always. I saw the photos that Ace took the other night. They were really clear. Sure wish all of our cameras performed as well. Technology can be funny like that. One design outperforms another even though they both use the same general principles."

"Oh, yeah, I guess. Lee had really good lighting with the desk lamp. That was a big help." Her response cut off abruptly as her eyes turned to the door and her smile got even brighter. Without looking where she looked, Leatherneck sighed in resignation, eased off Amanda's desk and took a careful step farther away from her. Mrs. King was just so friendly that he couldn't stay away, but he had suffered Lee's ire often enough that he didn't want to provoke the agent again. As expected, Lee cut through the coffee crowd like a hot knife through butter and loomed over Amanda's desk as if protecting his territory.

"Have you finished the official report on the Detwiler case?" Lee flicked his eyes towards Leatherneck as he asked the question, reminding Amanda to be discreet about the contents of that report. As agreed with Fritz, Lee had omitted the cat burglar's involvement in the night's events during the debriefing. Since Billy had been informed about the Mob rumors yesterday, it was important to have a complete record of the evening's events including Fritz's role, even if it was only filed for future reference.

"Good morning, Lee. I'm fine, thanks. Yes, I'm nearly finished typing the final version." Amanda's eyes shone as she teased the handsome agent about his lack of manners and then answered his question. Her sweater was green with a snowflake pattern, and there were crystals sown into the snowflakes that sparkled in the light as she moved.

"Good. I've just met with T.P. and I think there are some details that are falling into place. Bring the report up to my office when you're finished, and we'll compare it with T.P.'s findings. We might have some questions for the Borsellino brothers."

"Sure. Maybe, half an hour?"

"Fine. Did you need something, Leatherneck?" Lee was all business this morning. Apparently, T.P.'s information was really hot.

"I was just going to discuss with Mrs. King the possibility of trying out some new surveillance equipment the next time she goes out. We have some tracking devices that are supposedly capable of two-way communication, and I need someone to field test them."

"Oh, yeah? I'll keep that in mind. I might have an opportunity to do that in the next few days." Lee positioned his body squarely facing Leatherneck and spread his coat wide by putting both hands on his hips. His charcoal gray suit was paired with a white shirt with black stripes and a red power tie. The challenge implied in his stance was unmistakable and Leatherneck adjusted his stance to defuse the stand-off.

Having the units field tested was standard procedure, and anyone could serve in the test. Leatherneck's hopes that he could work with Amanda, just the two of them, were dashed by Lee's untimely arrival. He could still hope that Lee would be sent on one of those six month undercover assignments which might give someone else a chance to catch Amanda's eye.

"That'd be great. You know where I'll be. And if you don't have a reason to use these gadgets, I'll just find someone else." Leatherneck tossed his paper plate in a nearby trashcan and vacated the field, leaving Lee looking like king of the hill.

"I'll see you upstairs in a few minutes." Amanda's voice brought the smile back to Lee's face and he relaxed as he perched a hip on the corner of her desk.

"You promised that _you_ wouldn't bring anything else into my office, but I can take the rest of that apple pie in there, can't I?" As he spoke, he braced one hand on the back of her chair and lowered his voice conspiratorily. The posture provided as much privacy as possible in the open office area.

She leaned closer to him and grinned that sassy grin that wrapped him around her little finger and said, "No, but it was still warm when I brought it in, so there might not be much left. And I can't say what might happen if you do take what's left, if anyone sees you doing it."

He winked, "I'll take my chances with that rabble any day." He left her desk and again clove a path through the milling agents getting a refill on coffee or snacks. His long arm shot out to the right as he snatched the pie tin from Fred Fielder's expectant gaze. Fred's howl of protest was drowned out by Lee's shout of triumph as he tilted the tin, showing Amanda the one piece left, and exited the bullpen with his prize.

* * *

 **Q Bureau**

The Film Library door was open when Amanda arrived, and she swung it back and forth to make the bells jingle when she walked in. Lee looked up from his notes and grinned at her playfulness. "The pie's delicious. Thank you." He couldn't help but notice how nicely her green pants hugged her figure.

"Fred was still sulking when I last saw him. You might have ruined his day." She tossed the Detwiler report on his desk for his signature. She sniffed in pleasure at the aroma of the wreath behind Lee's desk.

"I needed a treat more than he does. After talking with T.P., I really needed something good to happen."

"That sounds serious. Tell me about it." She busied herself tidying files and papers while he talked.

"T.P. was able to confirm that this 'Candle Snuffer' is a Mob operation, but it's only a splinter group. The aftermath of the Achille Lauro incident, when our fighter jets forced the hijacker's get-away flight to land in Italy, ruffled a lot of feathers all around the Mediterranean. The Sicilians were especially insulted by the stand-off between our Special Forces and the Italian forces on their island. So someone has convinced the splinter group to participate in a humiliating revenge. That's where the Borsellinos come in. Remember, Fritz said they were new to town. T.P. said they are part of the Sicilian Family that's running this particular operation. I wanted to check the report to see exactly what Fritz said so that I can have some leverage when I face them in interrogation."

"Oh, that's easy. He didn't say much about them. He thinks they were recently promoted from Toledo. Giovanni is the brains and Salvatore is the muscle." Amanda was able to give him the information without consulting the report.

"Hunh, that isn't much, is it?" Lee rotated his chair to face the window as he considered his options. He could track down Fritz to see if he knew more, or he could ad lib with the Borsellinos. Maybe the dumb one would be easily fooled into giving up the information. If Lee implied that Giovanni has already spilled the beans, then Salvatore might start talking. Yeah, that would be quicker than trying to find Fritz. It was Friday already, and he didn't want to tie up his weekend with work. "Have we found any weaknesses or suspicious deposits among the power company reviews?"

"Not yet. You have an appointment at 2:00 at Potomac Electric, and another at 4:00 with Dominion."

Lee grimaced. He had forgotten about the security reviews at the facilities. The morning was half gone already and he really needed to follow-up on T.P.'s information. Plus there was a meeting with Billy and the Middle East agent "noon-ish." His fist hit the armrest of his chair in frustration.

"Okay, this is the plan for the morning. I'm gonna spend some time in Interrogation with Salvatore and maybe with Giovanni, if I can get anything useful out of Salvatore. But first, let's go visit Leatherneck and check out these new gadgets he has. Those might be useful and we need to confirm their range. While I'm in Interrogation, you can be on the streets testing the receivers, and then pick-up lunch on the way back in. I can brief you over lunch and we can figure out what to do for the afternoon."

"That's fine. But I won't be able to go with you to the power companies. I have to leave early today to take the boys caroling at 5:00 and then chaperon the Christmas party afterwards."

"Then let's get moving." Lee smiled at her in satisfaction and guided her from the Q Bureau with his hand on the small of her back.

* * *

 **Driving around D.C.**

Leatherneck's new gadget was fashioned like a pin with two square sections linked by a thin chain. They had reverse-image silver and gold crosshatching on them, so they appeared to be fashionably chunky jewelry. The one with silver crosshatching held the microphone and tracking device, and the one with gold crosshatching disguised the speaker. It was odd hearing Leatherneck's voice from her lapel, and they agreed they would have to work out signals to keep Leatherneck from speaking at an inopportune moment. For now, they would just use the dictum "speak only when you are spoken to" to provide Leatherneck clues about when it was safe to speak. The monitoring device had a button to push when he wanted to speak as a precaution to minimize background noise for the wearer of the pin. While Amanda was driving the streets of Washington to test the range, she was alone in the car and the two chatted comfortably to test the limits of the device.

"Leatherneck, I'm turning from Wisconsin on to P Street and I'll drive all the way to 29th on this round, correct?"

The quartermaster made some notes on the grid map following her progress. "Right you are, little lady. The expanding grid pattern will test all directions and distances until we have a good guess about how reliable these units are. The tracking device is still registering clearly, too."

"I've always wanted to ask you something. Your mother didn't name you 'Leatherneck,' did she?" The smile in Amanda's voice was evident and Leatherneck reveled in the opportunity to spend time with her, even if it was remote rather than in person. He was tracking her from the Q Bureau since his office was too far underground to use for testing. He stretched out comfortably on the couch and let his southern drawl expand like it did when he talked to folks back home.

"No, I didn't pick that up until after I left the Marine Corps. My momma named me William after my dad and Ray after her dad. She has always called me Billy Ray. My grampa always called me 'Young-un.' My dad called me Billy when I was a little guy, but switched to Bill when I started going to school. In the Marines, everyone goes by their last name, so I was called Nelson then. At my first job after the Marines, my co-workers called me Leatherneck, which I thought was an honorable accolade for my military service. When I got to the Agency, Billy Melrose had just been promoted to Section Chief, and I thought two Billys would be one too many. So I decided to stick with Leatherneck, as a tribute to the Marine Corps." It was so homey talking to Amanda. He knew he couldn't compete with the charm Stetson oozed naturally, but he hoped that he would be in position to try his limited charms on Amanda if Ace's attentions ever diminished.

"It suits you. Turning off P now, and onto 29th." Several turns later, they reached the limit for the communication devices, but the tracking device was still returning a strong signal. Amanda turned back to the Agency, and stopped near the office to pick up sandwiches and soup from a deli Lee favored. As she ordered lunch, Lee burst into the Q Bureau and startled Leatherneck into sitting upright on the couch.

"Is Amanda back with lunch? I thought I heard her voice."

"No, we're on mute, but we can pick up her voice while she is placing her order at the deli."

"I suppose it would be awkward for her if I suddenly spoke up and requested extra mustard or something, wouldn't it?"

"Right you are, Ace. Awkward for sure." They chuckled over the imagined reaction in the deli. When the lady in question wasn't around, the two men got along comfortably as friends. Lee only bristled when Leatherneck was too close to Amanda. Leatherneck mentally sighed in relief that the agent had not been around during most of their field testing conversation. The conversation wasn't out-of-line, but Lee had a way of being unreasonably possessive about the lovely housewife.

As she exited the deli, they could hear the ambient noise level change as the low murmur of indoor conversations gave way to the hiss and rumble of traffic. Suddenly, another voice came over the device.

"Stop and admire the Christmas decorations. I'll be brief. I told Lee that my contact kept saying 'what the Baa-seeg wants the Baa-seeg gets'? That's not a person, it's a committee based in Iran. The Mob is concerned about how the Baa-seeg will react when they find out that the Borsellino brothers may be missing and that they may compromise Candle Snuffer ."

The next distinct noise they heard was the metallic thunk of Amanda's car door closing. "Did you hear that?" Amanda asked.

Lee seized the tracking unit from Leatherneck and depressed the "talk" button. "Yeah, was that Fritz?"

"Oh, Lee, I'm so glad you're there. He came up behind me and turned me toward a window so that I could see him in the reflection. I was so startled! When he finished talking, he mingled with a crowd of folks boarding a bus and left."

"Are you okay?" Lee was frustrated that he couldn't see her or get to her. He and Leatherneck shared a look of concern – chivalrous men wanting to go to the rescue.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'll be right there with lunch."

* * *

 **MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN**

 **in an elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

Ahmad Jalali was good, very good. As a weapons expert in the Iranian army, he had become proficient with a staggering array of armaments developed by the so-called "first-world" nations. As one of the oldest civilizations on the planet, the very concept of other, younger nations considering themselves to be "first" was an insult. However, the progress in warfare of these brash juvenile nations was useful and could be made to serve their great cause.

It had taken months of careful behavior to blend into his Washington neighborhood. His long, curly hair wasn't unusual, nor his thick mustache. He wore jeans and sweatshirts, sport teams and college logos, flannel shirts and cut-off shorts - just like his neighbors. He even helped folks get jobs at the delivery company where he worked. He fit in. Westerners with their limited definition of "family" were unlikely to uncover the extensive family connections that held such pride for his mother. She was not much more than a cast-off child from her own mother's imprudent marriage, but family connections _mattered_ in Iran. They mattered a lot.

Despite years of financial comfort, he was not seduced by Western decadence. He was honored by the trust of Abdul Tariq and yearned to satisfy this great man of vision and dedication. "The embassy is vulnerable and I can bring it down at your word, Honored One." Months of planning and stealth had finally resulted in having a fully assembled rocket launcher in his control on United States soil. He had just finalized arrangements to obtain the missiles from an Egyptian arms dealer.

The old man put his hand on the bowed head of his newest protege. "All in good time. It is but one piece of the triumph." He had been careful to segment the strategies. The Italian was oblivious to the many layers of destruction planned for the United States. The Egyptian might have guessed, but he would never be so bold as to speak of his guesses. Even the loyal Basiji did not know of the plans for the Little Satan. Attacking Israel in the bosom of its American ally was a stroke of genius. The victory would be so sweet.

* * *

 **Agency Conference Room**

After a hurried lunch, Lee and Amanda met with Billy, Francine, and Mike Maddux from the Middle East unit. The stylish agent had manicured nails which matched the silk suit and the knotted scarf on her shoulder. Mike was dressed comfortably in a navy turtleneck and gray corduroy jacket. Mike's days as a field agent had ended some years ago, but he was top notch for finding and following a paper trail. His years in the Middle East had established him as a primary authority on the region and he often consulted with other agencies, sharing his expertise. His dark hair and eyes had allowed him to blend in that region with minimal effort at disguise.

Francine was scheduled to work this weekend keeping a watchful eye on in-coming communications and other developments. While most agents could take weekends off, the need to defend national security never ceased. She would spend today getting updates on current cases so she knew what to watch for in the communications traffic and who to call with relevant data.

Amanda's head was spinning with unusual names and the leaps of intellect common among the agents, and she was grateful for Lee's concise summary at the end of the meeting. She was only slightly distracted by watching his graceful hands as he gestured.

"It appears that Iran is funding this operation, and your primary suspect for managing the op is Abdul Tariq." He nodded at Mike and turned back to the white board which held their notes. "We believe the Sicilian Mob is providing manpower to raid government facilities – State, the Pentagon and other unnamed targets. Unidentified sources – possibly the Mob again – plan to take down the power grid to by-pass the security systems. Primary targets for the electrical grid would be the generating station, the high voltage transmission lines that leave those stations, or a regional substation that serves a large area." Lee's hands tapped the key points in the tangent of electrical information which trailed down the side of the white board. "Taking down any one of those pieces could cause a cascading power failure in just a few minutes that affects a large area, possibly even several states. Some of the targeted sites for the raid may have generator backup, and those sources of power may also be sabotaged as part of the attack. That suggests a rather heavy use of explosives. Thus, it might be helpful to sniff around for anyone stockpiling plastique."

"They say, 'politics makes strange bedfellows' and that's sure true about this. Who would have expected the Italian Mob to serve in a subordinate position to Iran?" Francine had simultaneously taken notes on the discussion and kept a separate list of key words, names, and files to pull which might hold related information. Her mental agility to process information and track details was the primary qualification which had recommended her as Billy's assistant over other agents with higher seniority. Billy had been under fire for it, but he never regretted that decision.

"Iran funds all sorts of terrorist operations around the world. As a funding source, they stay in the background, but I assure you they are pulling the strings. They resent American interference in a region which they jealously guard as ' _theirs'_ and intend this operation to end our meddling." Mike spoke with the easy voice of unchallenged authority. He steepled his hands, fingertip to fingertip, and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Italy wasn't the only nation outraged by the aftermath of the Achille Lauro hijacking. Egypt was furious. I'll do some checking with my Egyptian contacts, too. Tunisia. Lebanon. Hell, they're all 'in bed' with each other, politically speaking. The possibilities are endless."

"I have appointments this afternoon to review security plans and alert the local power companies about this situation. I'll contact my sources to get more leads about the threat to the power grid and anyone trying to buy plastique and other explosives." Lee was scanning the notes on the white board, wondering whether there were more details to add, or more conclusions to make.

"I'll shake down my contacts and put a watch on Tariq's residence. He's in the Embassy Row area – plush accommodations and decadent Western comforts," Mike sneered. "We'll get Research looking for a money trail out of Iran to see if we can identify the extent of this particular conspiracy. Someone must be spending big money on ammunition and explosives for an operation of this size."

"Amanda, expand your research beyond the power company executives and their board members. Look at the organizational charts of both power companies to identify anyone who has detailed knowledge of the generating operations and lines. Taking down the power grid would require a fairly precise attack – not just a random explosion." Billy rubbed his face wearily as he considered the heavy price if they failed.

"Yes, sir."

"Let's hit this _hard_ people. I want these varmints to regret they ever thought of this scheme." His voice exuded confidence. This was no business for a pessimist.

* * *

 **LATE FRIDAY EVENING, ACROSS TOWN**

 **in an elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

Crocetta had been left standing in the foyer for several minutes. He was annoyed but unsurprised by the delay. He had arrived without warning and without summons. Being forced to wait was the power play that one could expect for such untimely behavior. Unfortunately, the big man had news that could not wait. He did, however, have one scrap of information that he had saved to sweeten a moment like this. He hoped it would be enough to assuage the fury that might erupt.

At last the doorman returned to usher him into a smaller and less impressive room than their usual meeting room. It lacked the opulence of their usual room, and barely contained the most basic furnishings for comfortable negotiations. He was told to "make himself comfortable" in a hard backed chair and offered a tray of fruit drinks and dried fruits. Deeming it polite to accept the refreshments, he sipped without interest at a sweet drink, unable to determine what fruits had been blended to achieve the cloying flavor. He had been inside long enough that his coat was too hot, and he unbuttoned it, and loosened his scarf. He smoothed his tie repeatedly, as if a neat appearance would avert disaster.

After many more minutes, the bold step of Abdul Tariq was heard in the hall. "You must have urgent news to have interrupted me, this evening." The abrupt challenge unnerved Crocetta further.

"Yes, sir. We felt it best to not wait until our next meeting to inform you about a small, _possible_ complication." Tariq had moved closer, but was still standing so that Crocetta felt himself at a disadvantage. That, of course, was deliberate. Crocetta was several inches taller than Tariq and only uneven positioning would allow Tariq to physically intimidate the man. "One of the teams, two brothers, were working on an unrelated assignment and... uh, their... their mission was compromised. They seem to have been taken into custody of some kind."

Tariq was momentarily dumbfounded. Did the imbecile have no more information than this? "What do you mean 'seem to have been taken into custody of some kind'? Are they in custody or not? What kind of custody – police, federal government, city dog catcher?" Biting sarcasm was dripping from his words.

"We have loyal contacts in various police forces throughout the D.C. area and none of them have any record of such an arrest. However, we know where they were on Wednesday, and there was significant government action at that house on that night. We haven't seen them since. That's why I couldn't tell you sooner than tonight that we do believe they are missing." Indeed, he himself had argued that waiting for 48 hours was too long for such alarming news, but brothers new to the area might have gone AWOL for any number of reasons and the Family didn't want to be premature with bad news.

"What government action?" Could any man in international negotiations really be this stupid?

"It wasn't the FBI or the CIA. It might have been the Drug Enforcement Agency, since there was cocaine on the premises."

"Is that your best guess? Can't you confirm it?" Tariq was looming over him now, and Crocetta's head was cocked back at an uncomfortable angle to maintain eye contact.

"That's a bit tricky. We have recently lost our best contacts at D.E.A. and haven't been able to verify whether anyone was taken into custody or not. The other option is that it might have been... The Agency."

The silence was more menacing than the bluster. Crocetta took several swallows of the nasty fruit drink to bolster his confidence and rest his neck.

"Are you telling me that one of your committed teams might be in danger of informing on this operation?" The old man's face turned an alarming shade of red and his voice rose in both volume and pitch.

"No, no. Certainly not. They know that the Family's displeasure would be swift and final. It's only that they might accidentally share some _minor_ detail that might give the Americans some _small_ clue. If it's the D.E.A., they will have no interest in an operation that doesn't involve drugs. If it's The Agency, it will probably be lost in the influx of data and false rumors that keep the agents chasing their tails." He twirled his finger in the air to mimic agents going in circles to demonstrate his point. He nodded several times to underscore his confidence in this assessment.

"You had better hope that the failure of this mission cannot be traced back to you. The Family's displeasure is nothing compared to the displeasure of the Basij." The whispered threat made the Italian's skin crawl.

"I do, however, have one piece of good news that will surely please you." Crocetta wiped nervously at his mustache, no longer sure that his scrap of good news would balance the bad, but he had to try. "We have enhanced the original plan to include tying up local law enforcement resources. We have spread the word about an opportunity caused by the planned power outage to our most trusted associates. Their burglary in homes and private businesses will increase the sense of alarm and embarrassment, and decrease the ability for the Americans to investigate the security breaches in the government sector."

"Are you telling me that every jewel thief in D.C. is aware of this operation?" The shouting was accompanied by drops of saliva this time. The frenzy was terrifying.

"No, no, no, noooooo. That would be foolish in the extreme. Only our _most_ trusted associates have been _carefully_ informed. These men would not share the information with their own competitors." He dabbed at his face with a napkin, unobstrusively wiping away the spit.

The Italian tried to scoff convincingly, but was abysmally aware that what he thought was a clever enhancement to the plan was infuriating to the Iranian.

"I'll say it again: the Family's displeasure is nothing compared to the displeasure of the Basij." This last threat was spoken in a furious whisper only an inch from Crocetta's face. With that, the old man turned and walked out of the room, marveling that he had allowed his guest to live.


	5. Sunday, Dec 22

NOTE: There is no chapter for Saturday.

 **Sunday, December 22**

 **Late evening, Arlington**

The weekend flew by for Amanda. She adamantly insisted that Thanksgiving weekend be reserved for giving thanks and enjoying her family, _not Christmas shopping_. The following week, Joe had returned from Estoccia unexpectedly. Solving his problems and easing his re-introduction to his sons had consumed the weekend after Thanksgiving. Then she had been called out of town for a Marvelous Marvin's convention, which took another weekend. Luckily, Joe and the boys had spent that Saturday buying a Christmas tree. With their help, she'd been able to decorate the house finally.

So this weekend, less than a week before Christmas, she spent being buffeted by the shopping frenzy in the mall. Her mother took Jamie shopping for presents for Philip and Amanda, while Amanda took Philip shopping for Jamie and Dotty. They met in the food court for lunch and then Amanda took Jamie to buy a gift for Dotty, while her mother took Philip to buy something for Amanda. There was a hurried conference about a combined gift from the boys to their father which necessitated yet one more purchase. She welcomed the chance to go back to work on Monday morning. Even the bullpen was less hectic than the mall at this time of year.

Sunday night, she had a sobering session balancing her checkbook and paying the monthly bills. She examined her dwindling list of gifts-still-to-be-purchased with a concerned eye. There were only a few items left on the list, but time was running out and money was running out even faster. She had finished shopping for her mother, Joe (a small coffee maker with a timer – strictly practical), Billy, Francine and Lee. She paused in delight as she thought about what she had finally decide to give Lee.

It was too early in their relationship for her to give him anything really personal. And their relationship was too well developed for her to give him anything strictly practical and impersonal. She had finally decided on music. She had bought the new album by one of his favorite groups and wrapped it with two tickets to their February concert. She was hyperalert for any hint that he had already bought it for himself, but she didn't think he was even aware that the musicians had released the new album already. Even if he bought the album, the tickets would be a special treat for both of them. She smiled in anticipation of his pleasure in the gift. Now she just had to cross her fingers and hope that matters of national security wouldn't interfere and make them miss the concert.

The problem gift this year was the " _Back to the Future_ " poster that Jamie wanted. It was the first movie that had made science "cool", and she wanted to nurture his interest. He was fascinated by the pseudo-scientific premise of the movie and enjoyed discussing with friends which theories presented by the movie were real and which were bogus. He had probably watched the movie half a dozen times already and the poster was high on his list of desired gifts. The music store had been sold-out of the popular item for weeks, and the salesclerk had assured her that they expected another shipment of posters prior to Christmas. She would have to call tomorrow to check the status on that one.

She still had a few things to pick up for Philip and Jamie's stockings, something to give to Aunt Lillian, and the elusive poster. She sighed heavily and stretched both arms high above her head. She shook her head vigorously to dislodge her financial woes. Christmas comes only once a year, and she was determined to enjoy giving gifts to all those people who were near and dear to her heart. She firmly closed the checkbook and shoved it into her purse.

The slight tapping at the window made her heart thrill. She smiled warmly in welcome as she opened the back door and motioned for her handsome visitor to come in out of the chill night. She closed the door silently behind him and, keeping her voice low, she said, "Hi. Good to see you." She was wearing a red holiday sweater that featured a Christmas tree surrounded by gifts. Sequins and rick-rack embellished the tree.

He rubbed his hands briskly to banish the cold and said, "Hi yourself. Looks like 'all is calm and all is bright' here at the King house." He inhaled deeply, enjoying the aromas of Amanda's cooking. Her kitchen always smelled great. Tonight's dinner had featured tomatoes, onions and garlic.

"Well, 'all is calm' is only an illusion brought on by temporary exhaustion. It's been a zoo here this weekend." She moved closer and took both of his hands in her own, sharing her warmth. He was looking very nautical tonight. He wore his navy, wool jacket and the red, white and blue striped long sleeved t-shirt that he had worn when they went sailing.

"Uh, yeah, I noticed Joe was over late both nights." He could have kicked himself for saying that! He didn't want her to think that he was hanging around like a stalker every night, watching her every move. He removed his hands from her grip and ran both hands through his hair. He had planned to play it smooth, employ some Class C interrogation on Monday at the office, keep it light. Instead, he blurted it out and he couldn't call it back. He turned his face away from her and pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand, hoping to hide his emotions.

To Amanda's regret, it was true. Somehow, Joe had been included at dinner on both Saturday and Sunday. Saturday evening, he had watched a string of Christmas specials with the boys. On Sunday evening, there had been an extensive walk down memory lane as the boys showed Joe the family photo album and tried to bridge years of neglect with a condensed version of their lives as far back as they could remember. It had been painful to watch and she had absented herself from their conversation as much as possible. Her mother had helped by supplying details, answering questions and covering for Amanda's lack of input. Joe hadn't left until 10:00 when she sent the boys to bed.

"Well, you know how it is with families at Christmas time," she said lightly. She had intended to categorize Joe's involvement as just one of the many aspects of family obligations, but had remembered too late that Lee _didn't_ know how it was with families. She was disgusted with herself for the thoughtless comment and similarly turned from him frantically thinking of how to recover.

Simultaneously they turned to each other and said, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." As if that mutual exchange restored the entire balance of the universe, they beamed shyly at each other and released sighs of relief.

"It gets crazy busy here during the holidays," she said, "and there isn't nearly enough time for the...finer enjoyments." She paused and placed both hands gently on his chest as she said, "finer enjoyments" so that he could not mistake that she considered _him_ one of the finer enjoyments. She was keeping it light, but was definitely flirting. When he showed up at her house, it always took her a little time to transition from her cheery and efficient household persona into the warmth of their friendship.

He smiled in return and his mouth moved as if debating whether to voice his thoughts or not. She waited with a flirty smile while he considered. "Amanda, I..." His voice trailed off on a sigh of embarrassment. She lifted her eyebrows questioningly, giving him time. She could see in his eyes the moment he gathered his courage and decided to say what was on his mind.

"I remember you told Joe that you 'want to move forward' only, uh... I'm not quite sure what that meant." He felt like a school boy. Maybe it would be easier just to hand her a note asking "Do you like me?" and let her check the box beside 'yes' or the one beside 'no'. "What I mean is... Do you... Do you want to move forward with a clean slate with Joe... you know, start fresh in your marriage? Or do you... uh, have other ideas of how you... plan to move forward in life?" He was pleased with how that last question came out. It was more neutral than asking if she wanted to move forward _with him_.

"Oh my gosh." Both eyes opened wide as she realized in a flash what he was asking, and how each of these men would have interpreted that comment. Joe, with his blind optimism, would have heard it as absolution and a willingness to wipe the slate clean and start fresh. Lee, with his history of losing the people he loved, would have heard it the same way but in despair. Joe would open that coffee pot and see it as a very wifely gift – not romantic, but a gift reflecting closeness and familiarity. She certainly didn't want to give him that message; she would return it tomorrow. In the meantime, she needed to clarify the meaning of that statement for the man in her kitchen. She could hardly say, "I want to move forward with you" even though she meant it with her whole heart. They were still too shy with each other, too tentative to make such a bold statement. She would use his own words to reassure him. "Joe and I will start fresh in different roles as we learn to parent the boys without being married. But I _most definitely_ have _other_ ideas of how I'd like to move forward in my life." She uttered that last line in a deeper voice and a particular look that nearly melted his bones. It was a very unambiguous statement and his heartbeat slammed into overdrive as he responded to her gaze.

He took a small step to close the slight distance between them and his hands drifted around her waist as if drawn by magnets. The air seemed charged, somehow, like an electric field quivered around them. Her hands slid up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders. She tilted her head back to maintain eye contact as he moved closer, then dropped her eyes involuntarily to glance at his lips. She licked her lips in anticipation as his head dipped lower.

The sudden dull clatter and cry of surprise from the stairs caused them to jump apart in alarm. Lee knelt quickly, hiding behind the bulk of the kitchen island, ready to dodge left or right if Dotty came further into the room.

"Mother? Mother, are you alright?" Amanda hurried up the two stairs to the landing.

"Yes, yes. Nothing's bruised but my dignity, as they say. I was trying to carry too many packages at once and lost my balance when the top ones started sliding off. It's a good thing I have a cushy tushy." Dotty picked up the packages nearest her, while Amanda retrieved a few which had landed in the foyer. Her headed craned left and right, trying to figure out where Lee had gone and where she could safely direct her mother. Not seeing her visitor, she suggested loudly, "Let's put these under the tree and then you can rest on the couch while you catch your breath."

The women moved into the den and started tucking the packages under the tree.

"Oh, not those, Amanda. Don't put them under the tree, yet. They still need ribbons. Do we have any more of the green curling ribbon? I think it looks so festive with that wrapping paper, don't you?"

"I like the green with that paper, too. Maybe there's more curling ribbon with the other wrapping paper in the dining room. You could go look, Mother."

As Dotty exited the den in search of more ribbon, Amanda rounded the far end of the couch beside the shelves and peeked around the corner of the kitchen island still looking for Lee. Her timing was impeccable. They were nearly face to face and barely halted short of colliding with one another.

"Is she okay? Not limping?" Lee whispered, his breath stirring Amanda's hair.

"Yeah, she's fine. I'll see you tomorrow." Amanda smiled extra warmly as she appreciated Lee's concern for her mother.

With a wink and a wave, Lee slipped into the night, much warmer than he had been in days.

* * *

 **In a seedy bar in D.C.**

Wendell Weezler sat in a dark booth of a smelly bar nursing yet another drink. Actually, he cowered in the booth. He was a small man – in character as well as stature. His fading red hair was parted just above his left ear in a pathetic attempt to cover his baldness, and his glasses were neither fashionable nor suitable for his face. His tie was dotted with the small stains of various meals, and his white shirt had a red smudge where today's ketchup had missed his mouth. He nervously adjusted his glasses as he lifted his eyes from his drink to identify the person entering with the cool breeze from the doorway. Since he only lifted his eyes, and remained hunched over his glass, he looked somewhat like a turtle, with his head ducked low and thrust forward. He made a sound – part moan and part whimper.

Sayeed paused in the doorway as he removed his gloves and pushed them deep into the pockets of his denim jacket. The filth of the bar was disgusting and he wrinkled his nose against the smells of stale beer and tobacco smoke. He had dressed to blend with the rest of the patrons - thick sweatshirt and worn jeans. Peering through the haze, he identified his contact by posture, as much as by appearance. He frowned in annoyance as he realized that he would have to sit with his back to the door. That was never an advantage in his duplicitous work, but that's what happened when he arrived late. Of course, he wouldn't apologize for being late. That would sound like weakness.

Spending his time in dives like this was one of the worst things about his job. It was a necessary part of identifying likely informants and had indeed been how he had uncovered the secret that held Weezler in his power now. Nevertheless, it was a repulsive task.

It had been about two months ago, in a different bar several miles away, when he had the good fortune to overhear a slightly drunken Weezler asking the bartender whether he knew anyone who would do good auto repair confidentially. To Sayeed's delight, the bartender turned away to deal with a rowdy disturbance at the far end of the bar, allowing Sayeed to say that he might have such a contact and suggest that they move to a quiet table to discuss the matter. That was all it had taken, and Weezler had acted like Sayeed was his new best friend. That ended several days later when Sayeed presented the repair bill.

Over that first drink together, Sayeed had discovered where Weezler worked and his role in the office. It was obvious that Weezler had overplayed his importance, but he did have access to important documents. Sayeed stored that information in the "to be used someday" portion of his brain, and proceeded to discover why _confidential_ car repairs were needed. It was a perfect blackmail opportunity. Weezler had been driving home from a weekend in the mountains where he had participated in the revelries of a family wedding. He had the asinine notion that he drove better with a few drinks in him, and was enjoying the sound of his tires squealing on the mountain curves. He rounded a sharp bend and realized too late that a small sports car was already in the lane driving towards him. It was too late to jerk his truck back into his own lane. His sturdy pickup truck barely shuddered as he rammed the sports car, sending it over the edge and into the valley below. A second car was present and stopped to help, but the fireball in Weezler's rear view mirror was enough to convince him to keep driving and avoid attention. The next day, a newspaper article revealed that the sports car had been carrying its driver and passenger on their honeymoon, and the second car had been full of groomsmen intent on good-natured harassment of the bridal couple. With enraged eyewitnesses to the crash, it was imperative that he not expose his damaged truck to the scrutiny of reputable repair shops. However, it was equally important to get the minor damage fixed, just in case the police were looking for the identifying paint chips in pickup trucks with damaged headlights and front fenders.

Sayeed had clapped Weezler on the back and arranged to meet him the next night with the contact information for a quiet repair service. He assured Weezler that the repairs wouldn't empty his bank account, and the small man left with an air of relief. Americans were so weak. In his country, the family and even the groomsmen would have been free to seek revenge for the lives cut short. Americans paid hired servants to do the things which honor demanded families to do for themselves. In this case, the law enforcement agencies had stopped looking for the hit and run vehicle in less than a week. Family revenge in his country never waned, never gave up. His hold on Weezler was like family revenge – unrelenting.

Sayeed had met with Tariq that same night. Despite the late hour, he suspected that Weezler's ability to access certain documents would be highly interesting to the influential old man. He was right. The young man left quietly with the necessary contact information for the auto repairs. The old man engaged in a flurry of international phone calls, urgently exploiting the new victim. That evening's work had been the foundation of "Operation Candle Snuffer." A week later, Sayeed presented the bill for the repairs. It cost considerably more than Weezler had anticipated, but not in dollars. The price was to betray his professional position and release highly sensitive information.

So far, that information had not been presented, and Sayeed was beginning to suspect that Weezler was too weak to be a useful subject for blackmail. Perhaps, he really couldn't get the documents. Sayeed had tried threats and physical abuse. He had given "a little more time" on several occasions. Perhaps, Sayeed himself was too soft to employ blackmail tactics. His conversation with Tariq had increased his own fear for his life, and tonight he intended to have no mercy on Weezler. He hoped to still conduct business like gentlemen, but he would resort to permanent damage if Weezler did not pay his repair bill tonight.

Weezler gulped a final swallow of his drink as Sayeed approached the table, and shuffled as if to go fetch another. A sharp look from Sayeed squelched the intention, and the little man became even smaller. "Don't get another drink, just yet. I need you to look closely at a few pictures." Sayeed slid into the opposite side of the booth and tossed a photograph on the table. "What do you see?"

Weezler fidgeted with his glass and swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Hands. I see hands."

"Right. And how many fingers are on those hands, Weezler?"

"Nine." The answer came out as a hoarse whisper. It was the only sound he could make. He always appreciated the dim lighting in this bar because he thought it helped hide his presence. Now he was grateful that he couldn't see the picture too clearly.

"That's right. Good." Sayeed placed the photo to one side, still in Weezler's view, and presented another. "And here, what do you see in this picture?"

"It's a man's head."

"Yes, what about the head?"

"There is only one ear." Weezler could hardly breathe. It appeared that the ear had been removed just moments before the photo had been taken. He couldn't look away from the grizzly photo, fully aware of the implications.

"What do I have in my hand now?"

"A kn-n-n-nife."

"But not just any knife. What kind is it?" The voice purred relentlessly. Prompting.

"That's a s-s-scalpel."

"You're doing very well, Weezler. I'll let you get a drink in just a minute. There are just a couple of other photos I want to show you. What do you see in these photos?"

"That's my, my uh, truck – front and side views."

"When were these photos taken?"

"Before the repairs. After the...uh, after the... accident."

"But the courts don't consider that an accident, do they?"

"No. Hit and run with, with uh... two fatalities. F-f-felony. They consider it a f-felony offense." His face was covered in beads of sweat and he was too frightened to move and wipe it off.

"Now, I don't have a photo of your future, but I can assure you that at least one of these photos suggests a possible outcome of our conversation tonight. I'll let you think about that while I fetch your drink. Scotch?" He sneered at the jerky nod of affirmation and sauntered to the bar. He fervently hoped the threats would work. He didn't want to mutilate the man if he didn't have to. He returned to the booth and set the glass on the edge of the table, forcing Weezler to reach for it. When the arm was fully extended, Sayeed clamped a hand around his wrist and gripped it hard, sloshing the scotch on the table.

"No more excuses, Weezler. Where is your payment for the repairs?" The furious whisper froze Weezler's bones and several seconds passed before his chest rose again with his next breath.

"Tuesday," he gasped. "I can have it for you Tuesday."

"You said Thursday that you would have it for me today."

"Yes, but... yes, but the project... the review application... We haven't finished it. My boss didn't leave town Friday afternoon like he planned. We'll finish the review by noon on Tuesday, that's Christmas Eve, you know, a half day, and then he'll leave. I can't take the blueprints until then. They will all notice the plans are missing if I give them to you before that." Sayeed let go of his wrist, and Weezler took a desperate gulp of the scotch. He wiped his face with the tiny paper napkin provided with the glass, leaving little paper bits stuck to his face. He took a more careful swallow and closed his eyes looking for courage. He was unsuccessful.

Sayeed considered the garbled excuse. Stealing the blueprints while they were still being reviewed wouldn't help his cause. They might not get the plans and he would have to find another way to access the information, and he really didn't have more time. "Let's make a final deal, Weezler, my patience is well beyond the danger point. I'll let you keep those first two pictures as an... incentive for you to take appropriate action. I'll keep the scalpel and these pictures of your truck. You show up at Arlington Mall's food court – the mall is close to your office, yes?" He barely paused for another jerky nod. "Alright, you bring the blueprints of the power facility to the food court and we'll just be two of the very busy and distracted shoppers, and you can pay for the repairs to your truck by handing me the blueprints on Tuesday at 2:00."

Without waiting for acknowledgment, he slid off the bench and turned for one final word. "And Weezler," he paused waiting until he got eye contact, "if I don't get the blueprints on Tuesday, we won't be talking about it again. In fact, you won't talk to anyone again. There will be no Merry Christmas for you." He marched out of the bar, hoping to reinforce the impression of power and the willingness to use it. He was much better at analyzing information and making plans than in threatening people to obtain information. Taking down the power grid required careful study of the buildings and generator processes. He needed several days to study the system to ensure accurate placement of the explosives. A week should be long enough.


	6. Monday, Dec 23

**Monday, December 23**

 **Agency**

After his reassuring conversation with Amanda Sunday night, Lee had slept deeply for the first time since Joe's return. Their late night conversation in the hallway of the Fox Run Hotel had seemed promising, but the memory of that conversation had lost its potency in the intervening week. His fears that he had toyed too long with Amanda's affections had disrupted his sleep for nearly two weeks now. Amanda had banished those fears completely last night in her kitchen. He shook his head regretfully as he remembered yet another near kiss that had been interrupted. When would they get a break and have a little privacy?

He entered the agency with a spring in his step, carrying a sturdy department store shopping bag filled with professionally wrapped boxes of identical sizes, all but one wrapped in glossy red paper. He plucked the top one from the bag and with a charming smile he said, "A little something for you, Mrs. Marston."

"Thank you, Mr. Stetson. How thoughtful of you." Mrs. Marston had been receiving scarves from Lee for several years now and had plans for this gift. She had learned last night that her niece was planning to bring her boyfriend to their family Christmas dinner tomorrow, and she didn't have a gift for the young man. She had decided on her drive to work this morning that the annual scarf from Mr. Stetson could simply be re-gifted to the unexpected guest – an ideal solution. Her pleasure in the gift was genuine as she tucked it away, unopened.

After hearing the correct password, she handed Lee his badge and pressed the button giving him access to the closet/elevator. He loosened his own scarf and unbuttoned his coat as he waited for the door to open. Arriving in the bullpen, he encountered Frank Duffy at the coffee station just inside the door and drew out another package. "A little something for you, Frank."

"Why, thanks, Scarecrow. I appreciate this, really I do." Frank smiled his thanks and carried the gaily wrapped package and his cup of coffee back to his desk. He, too, tucked it away unopened. He and his wife planned to include it with a fruit basket for an elderly neighbor. After all, how many scarves can any person need?

Francine was on the phone, so Lee simply placed the next package on her desk with a nod and a wink. She smiled brightly in return. (She intended to give this scarf to her apartment doorman.) He continued making the rounds until his shopping bag contained only one present, putting as much effort into distributing his gifts as he had invested in selecting them. Feeling efficient, he made his way to the Q Bureau where he hung the shopping bag on the coat rack, removed his coat and scarf, and hung them to conceal the bag. Brushing his hands briskly together, he dispensed with the annual gift giving obligation without another thought.

* * *

 **Agency Bullpen & Conference Room**

Since it was the first day of Christmas vacation, the King household slept an extra hour. Amanda enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with her family, and dropped Dotty off at the grocery store on her way to work. Instead of returning the coffee pot originally intended for Joe, she had decided to save herself some effort and simply give it to Aunt Lillian. That meant she only had one more trip to the mall to finish her shopping. She would call the music store just before lunch. If the shipment of new posters had arrived, perhaps she could make those purchases during her lunch break today. Otherwise, she would have to be one of those desperate shoppers on Christmas Eve.

She left a tin of gingerbread on the coffee table as she entered the bullpen, draped her coat on the back of her chair, and put her purse in her desk drawer. She was still working on the background checks on power company employees, and wanted to be finished before anyone asked for her status report. She had barely gotten started when Billy paused beside her desk. "We'll have a strategy update in the conference room in 15 minutes. Would you please call Lee and tell him about it?"

"Yes, sir. We'll be there," Amanda assured him, reaching for her phone.

"Stetson." The baritone voice answering her call produced an extra sparkle in her eyes.

"Good morning, Lee."

"Well, good morning to you, too." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Mr. Melrose says we'll have a strategy update in the conference room in 15 minutes."

"I'll be there," he replied cheerfully.

She finished the background checks just as Lee sauntered into the bullpen. Today he wore a green and beige sport coat that brought out the color of his eyes so well. Their eyes met and Amanda vividly remembered the missed kiss from the night before. Her eyebrows lifted as she smiled in greeting and then she rose to meet him in the middle of the room. The skirt of her red dress swirled about her legs as she walked. She wore her hair pulled up in two clips and the curls brushed the high collar of the red and black plaid jacket. With files in hand, they turned together towards the conference room and settled companionably in adjacent chairs. She reached over to straighten his dark green tie; not because it was crooked but just to satisfy her need to touch him. There was no time for personal conversation as Billy, Francine and Mike Maddux followed them into the room.

"Lee, what have you learned?" Billy had a schedule full of meetings and was not wasting time with chatter.

"Both power companies have complied with all security review protocols and have agreed to increase security staffing for the next two weeks. Humbug performed their reviews less than two years ago when he was confined to desk duty waiting for retirement. He had time enough to be thorough and he was grumpy enough to be picky. All of that looks in order. Amanda, what did you learn about the employees?"

"I haven't found any irregularities with the Board or the executives or the staff who manage the facilities. There are no suspicious funds in their bank accounts, no recent changes in habits or haunts, no divorces, no scandals." While Amanda was glad to give a good report about people, she regretted that she couldn't find a lead. She smiled slightly and shrugged her right shoulder, almost apologizing for her brief report. Her right hand slid her heart pendant on its chain, while her left hand rested casually on the arm rest. From that position, her left elbow and Lee's right elbow were in almost constant contact.

Billy smiled at her encouragingly, "Thank you, Amanda. Francine, you've been combing files and comparing cases. Anything?"

"There has been an increase in the last year of Iranian graduate students in area universities. It seems likely that a network of informants or possibly agents has been slipped into the country on student visas. Duffy and Fielder are digging into the available paperwork looking for any patterns or clues. Lee's suspicion that this may be a Basij cell seems likely. Not all Iranian students are Basiji, but I bet we'll find several who are."

He turned to Mike, "Any success with the paper trail?"

"I think so," Mike began, nodding in satisfaction. "We noticed a little action in one of the dummy corporations that we suspect is controlled by Iran. We need to do some more digging, but my staff know what to look for. Tariq is a fanatic about compartmentalization of his affairs, and he always has several irons in the fire. However, we've spotted a few loose threads that seem promising." Billy and Lee shared an amused glance. Mike was notorious as a master of understatement and hated to "tell only half a tale" as he put it. They had to trust that Mike would give them solid information as soon as he had it.

Tariq had access to at least a dozen banking schemes to launder his financial deals. He was diligent to limit the size and frequency of transactions in any account. He was confident that the intelligence agencies were unaware of most, if not all, of his false corporations. On that point, he was correct. The Agency only knew about three corporations, but each one was flagged to alert them every time it was accessed. It was Tariq's fault that he had overlooked the fact that Ahmad Jalali only had access to one of those accounts. It was his misfortune that the account Jalali could use was one of the three the Agency was monitoring. It was his further misfortune that Tariq had used the account within an hour of Jalali's transaction. To compound the misfortune into a fatal error, both transactions led directly to another account being monitored as a probable front for covert Egyptian operations. Mike's team had whooped and high-fived over that juicy lead. He smiled as he remembered the excitement late Friday evening. The weekend staff had followed up on the lead and it appeared very promising indeed. He had assigned someone to watch Mustafa Boghdadi, an Egyptian weapons broker. It was just a hunch, but Mike had learned that hunches were worth pursuing.

Billy waited a few seconds then asked, "Is that all we get, man?"

Mike smiled with his lips pressed together and nodded a few times. Conjecture is just as likely to be misleading as it is to spawn helpful ideas. He preferred to work with facts. "No. I'll give you another little piece. We're 90% sure that Tariq is paying the Egyptians for something – probably munitions. However," he urged quickly, leaning forward to make his point, "keep checking your arms dealers of all types. There could be others involved and we don't want to miss them because we're only focused on Egypt."

"Thanks, Mike. Keep us posted." Billy swiveled his chair again. "Anything else from your contacts, Lee?"

"I've talked to T.P. again and the whole Mob is agitated. It seems that the Sicilian Family that initiated the deal with Iran recognizes that this 'partnership' is more than they can handle and the Mob is divided about how to respond. Some are advocating for the Mob to pull out of the deal altogether, and others are advocating a 'take-over' response to assume control of the conspiracy. There's quite an uproar, but the Mob is not known for backing out of any deal when they've 'given their word.' They are likely to try to take over, but no one knows how they would do that. If it's Iran's money, it's Iran's show."

"Has he ever hinted to you about his contact with the Mob?" Billy queried. Billy noticed that Lee and Amanda were sitting so close that their elbows were touching. Whenever Lee gestured, he always returned his arm to re-establish that point of contact. He was amused by this observation but suppressed his smile.

Lee shook his head. "His intel is always good. I don't ask about his sources."

"Sources!" Amanda blurted. All eyes turned to her as she rapidly worked through her thoughts to formulate a concise statement. "When I was paying my monthly bills last night, the power company's flier had a headline saying 'We are the Source.' The article described the growing needs for power and their plans for generating _more_ power. They have filed expansion plans with a Review Board for their approval. Wouldn't a Review Board have thorough knowledge of the current electrical grid?"

"Good point, Amanda. Yes, the Division of Energy Regulation would have access to that information." Billy beamed at the brunette's intuition. "We don't do security reviews on state offices because they aren't considered crucial to national security. Lee, go meet with those folks and get the status on that review process and confirm the security of the power company plans. Amanda, you go with him and get a current employee list. You can do background checks on them this afternoon."

Mike stood, eager to get back to the treasure hunt. "I'll be leaving for my daughter's this evening and spending all day tomorrow and Christmas morning with her family. I'll be back on the duty roster at 3:00 on Christmas afternoon."

"Thanks, Mike. I'll be on duty Christmas day, so maybe we can touch base when you come in." Lee leaned across the table to shake the older man's hand. He turned to pick up his file, just in time to see a shadow of disappointment flicker across his partner's lovely face. He knew she wanted him to come to her house for Christmas dinner, but this was not the year. He and Amanda had just starting dating and it was too early to meet the family. Besides, Joe would be there, so Lee wouldn't even consider going. He hoped that the gift he had selected for her would make up for it.

Billy and Mike exited the room talking about their families and holiday plans. "How about lunch, partner? We can schedule a visit to the Review Board for this afternoon." Lee was eager for some time alone with her. His eyes roamed her features lingering on the tumble of curls, and the curve of her cheek when she smiled, and the light in her eyes.

"That would be nice," she answered, smiling back at him. "I need to make a phone call first to the music store at the mall, so why don't I meet you in your office?"

Ten minutes later, he hung up the phone just as she jingled the bells coming into his office. "We're set for 1:30 at the Review Board." He lifted his coat from the rack, and shrugged it on, as she pulled on her gloves.

"I'm glad you had a successful phone call. Mine wasn't good news. I keep expecting a shipment of posters for Jamie's final Christmas present, and they haven't arrived yet. If they arrive tomorrow, I'll have to face the Christmas Eve frenzy at the mall to buy it." Despite reporting the bad news, her face still glowed with the pleasure of anticipating lunch with Lee.

Trying to act nonchalant, Lee said, "I have something special for you, Amanda." He held out his final gift, this one wrapped in sparkling gold paper. The excitement in his eyes betrayed the careful tone of his voice.

"Oh, Lee," Amanda cooed. He had that lost, little boy look that melted her heart. Amanda was touched by his gift, but it looked like another scarf. She loved the scarf he gave her last year, but since then she had learned that he _always_ gave nearly identical scarves every year. She focused on the expression of shy eagerness on his face, rather than the anticipated gift. "I have something special for you, too, but it's still at home." Her voice softened a bit as she looked into his eyes. "I thought maybe I'd bring it to your place tomorrow after you duck out of the Christmas party early. Can we save this one and open them together?"

The bliss of having a private Christmas party for just the two of them dispelled his disappointment about her not opening the gift now. He wadded the department store bag into the trash bin, and tucked her gift under his coat, saving it for tomorrow afternoon. He held the door for her, jingling the bells to make her smile and followed her down the stairs for lunch.

* * *

 **Division of Energy Regulation**

Wendell Weezler almost called in sick Monday morning. Truly, he felt nauseous after last night's meeting with Sayeed, but he was afraid that something might happen to the power company plans if he didn't keep an eye on them. With his recent run of bad luck, they might finish the review today and, in an excess of efficiency, return the plans to the power company before he had a chance to steal them. Sayeed's parting warning about "won't talk to anyone again" gave him nightmares – and daymares - about having his tongue cut out. He forced himself to go to work and pretended to work all day. He didn't even leave his desk for lunch, but nibbled on soda crackers to calm his stomach.

After lunch, a man and woman visited with his boss for several minutes. They closed the door to his office, but there were plenty of windows for curious eyes. From his desk, Weezler could see the man presenting an I.D. badge, just like they do on television. There was serious discussion, firm handshakes, and then all three stood to end the meeting. As they walked through the large room filled with little cubicles, Weezler could hear his boss say, "I'll be glad to give you a copy of the employee roster, but I know these folks and you'll just be wasting your time. Still, I know you have to do your job."

* * *

 **In an elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

Sayeed twisted his knit cap nervously as he waited in the elegant foyer of the Embassy Row mansion that served as Abdul Tariq's headquarters. He carefully rehearsed his excuses and plans in an effort to quell the panic that threatened to erupt at any moment. Too anxious to sit, he paced restlessly during the prolonged wait. Finally, he was summoned to meet with the powerful old man.

Without greeting, Tariq demanded, "Progress on finalizing plans for taking down the power grid?"

Sayeed felt a hint of relief. At least he had guessed correctly about the nature of the summons. "I will have the blueprints in hand by this time tomorrow. That allows plenty of time for careful study before New Year's Eve." It took all of his effort to keep his voice steady, and he thought he had been successful. He remained standing, since he had not be invited to sit.

"No distractions? No possibility of failing to gain the documents this time?"

The pointed questions continued, but he had expected this too. "Classes at the university are finished for the next 4 weeks and there is nothing that will take precedence over this assignment. I am confident that my source will provide the documents this time."

"Good. Then you should have no objections to the helpers I will provide you." Tariq's black eyes glittered with malice as he gloated over Sayeed's poorly disguised surprise. It was good to keep underlings on their toes. This project was too important to entrust to complacent servants. Sayeed had an excellent reputation, but life in the West had weakened him. He had not pushed sufficiently to obtain the plans, and Tariq would _not_ tolerate failure. It was important to keep this captain of the Basiji properly focused, or he must be replaced. Other, more eager, young men would be glad to serve in the West. As the cleric of this Basij cell, such decisions were his alone, and it was good to exercise his power to maintain absolute control. Not all suicide bombers were fanatics; some had been persuaded that suicide would be preferred to other consequences.

Sayeed swallowed hard and felt his palms become slick with sweat. He resisted the urge to wipe them against his pants legs and suddenly realized that there had been no offer of food or drink since he had arrived. That breach of courtesy should have alerted him to the nature of this meeting. He had been careless to not anticipate this complication. He suspected that a smile would look like a grimace, so he decided to nod seriously as he lied, "No objections at all. I value any help you care to give me, Honored One." If all went as planned, the old man's helpers would be a mere annoyance for the next week, but Sayeed would prove his worth and they would go back to wherever they lurked until someone else needed the spurs.

The old man took a long drink of juice and fastidiously wiped his mustache before lifting his hand and snapping his fingers twice. Heavy footsteps on carpet broke the silence and Sayeed turned to see the two "associates" that Tariq used to enforce his will. Tariq stood and said quietly, "Do not fail me." Then he flicked his hand outward in dismissal.


	7. Tuesday, Dec 24

**Tuesday, December 24**

 **Agency Bullpen**

Christmas Eve was just as busy as one would expect. Amanda was delighted to learn mid-morning that the poster had finally arrived and she was eager to make that purchase before spending time with Lee. She helped Leatherneck with the party decorations and then enjoyed the festivities for an hour or so. Lee had attended for an obligatory half-hour of good cheer, but was inwardly counting down the minutes until he and Amanda would have their private celebration.

"Sir, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas one more time before I leave for the day." As usual, the bullpen was crowded with merry-makers and Amanda had to raise her voice a little to say good-bye. Her enthusiasm for the holiday was evident in her beaming smile. Today's Christmas sweater was silver gray with black trim and featured burgundy bows and ribbons. She wore matching black wool pants that had flecks of burgundy in the fabric.

"Thank you, Amanda." Billy's eyes twinkled. He enjoyed seeing his agents relax. Their work could be grim, and he felt it was important to remind them about the good things in life. "Merry Christmas to you and your family. Will you be going straight home, or do you still have a few errands to run?"

"I'll accompany her to the mall for her final purchases, and then be sure she makes it home safely." Lee spoke up firmly. Amanda had been teased all morning about her abduction during Christmas last year, and had laughed about it. Lee, however, had remembered the event painfully and could not suppress the dread evoked when she mentioned going to the mall today. If there was a private party for two between shopping and making it home safely, why should he mention it to Billy?

"Merry Christmas, to you, too, Lee. I know you're on duty tomorrow, but maybe you'll find some time to celebrate." Billy wondered if Lee had worn the green and white hound's tooth sweater as a nod toward the holiday. If so, it would be the first time that he had dressed for the occasion.

Lee helped Amanda with the various bundles she had acquired during the day. He looped her red and white scarf around her neck over her black coat and zipped his own black jacket. Then he guided her from the room with his hand nestled on the small of her back.

* * *

 **Arlington Mall 2:00**

The mall food court was packed. Lee bristled at the crowd that surged this way and then that. He felt all his senses on full alert as he scanned the shoppers for potential dangers. Holiday lights blinked and mechanical displays provided constant motion. Amanda had completed her purchases at the music store and gleefully clutched the cardboard tube containing the poster. She held Lee's hand snugly as she tugged him through the crowd, her gaze intent on reaching the nearest exit.

Lee's eyes narrowed suddenly as he spotted the cowering red-head from the Review Board office. The puny fellow wouldn't have been noticeable except that he had made eye contact with Lee and exhibited all of the signs of guilt. The agent rapidly assessed the details of the scene. The red-head also clutched a cardboard tube, but it was fatter than Amanda's. He appeared to be in the final approach to a dark haired man and was only steps away from handing over the tube. Actually, his arm was already extended as he caught Lee's eye. Also in Lee's field of vision, there was a "watcher" intent on the scene. He glanced around quickly and spotted a second watcher in a military green jacket on the far side of the sea of shoppers.

When Weezler saw Lee, he panicked and threw the tube toward Sayeed. The throw was badly aimed and the tube rolled out of Sayeed's sight on the floor. He cursed and lunged after it, barreling into Amanda and knocking her down. She was too far ahead of Lee for him to steady her, and an eddy of shoppers separated their clasped hands. She lost her grip on the poster, and scrambled after it, unwilling to lose the prize. Sayeed snatched up Amanda's tube and started pushing through the crowd.

Weezler recognized Sayeed's mistake immediately and knew that the beefy agent who had visited the office had nailed him. He turned toward one of the large tree planters and vomited behind the mechanical elf endlessly polishing a wooden boat.

Lee elected to ignore the red-headed fellow for now. He would be able to find him later. For now, his top priority was keeping up with Amanda. He bent swiftly to seize the larger tube from under a table, and shoved his way towards Amanda's bobbing head. He could see that both watchers were following her, and glanced around again to determine if there might be more than two on the scene.

Amanda tried to get Sayeed's attention to retrieve her poster, but her efforts were futile. She followed the denim jacket shouting, "Excuse me, sir. Sir? Please, sir, you have my poster." Years of tailing suspects paid off as she effortlessly kept up with every evasion and twist of her quarry. Bursting into the crisp winter weather, she realized that she was no longer the hunter, but the captive. Strong hands encircled each arm and marched her to a blue sedan parked in the fire lane beside the sidewalk of the mall. Without releasing his hold, one man slid into the backseat pulling Amanda after him, while the other muscled his way in beside Amanda, squishing her between them.

Sayeed was surprised by her arrival. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"You picked up my poster by mistake. And these two goons picked up me, _by mistake_." Her voice trembled with suppressed irritation. "Give me my poster and we'll call it even." Amanda's deeply ingrained good manners overrode her indignation with a little effort. She gave a small, apologetic smile and shrugged her head to the right.

Aghast, Sayeed took a closer look at the cardboard tube. He felt the blood drain from his face as he realized his error. Tariq would not give him another chance.

Just then, Lee yanked open the rear passenger-side door pointing his gun at the nearest thug and commanding, "Freeze, federal agent." He stood with one foot trapping the large cardboard tube, and both hands aiming the gun.

Sayeed wanted to floor the accelerator and leave the agent in the dust, but an American mall on Christmas Eve cannot be the scene of a rapid escape. There were pedestrians and vehicles crowding him on every side. He might have been willing to ride down a few bystanders, but the cars were nearly bumper to bumper and door to door. He had intended a quiet drop, not a frantic melee.

The goon beside the open door, unzipped his black jacket to reveal a vest of explosives. He made eye contact with Lee displaying his wares. "If you don't want the nearest 10 to 20 people to have a Merry Christmas, I suggest you hand over your gun, bring that tube and get in the front seat."

It only took one look at Amanda's frightened eyes for Lee to reluctantly part with his gun, and comply with the order. The bomber took Lee's gun and passed it to the goon on Amanda's other side. The man with the explosive vest held all the power, and the car edged its way through the packed parking lot in tense silence.

* * *

 **On the lawn of the elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

After a heated discussion in Persian, the car settled on a course that left the two goons in the backseat glowering at the driver. Sayeed was in the United States as a graduate student. As such, he lived off-campus in apartments which were primarily inhabited by other students. That meant the walls were thin and there was little privacy. The conversation had been stymied by his absolute refusal to consider taking these Americans to his apartment. His only other option was to take them to Tariq. It was Tariq's "helpful" goons that created this situation. Sayeed thought it would be appropriate for Tariq to be involved in solving the problem. The goons vigorously disagreed with this plan, but since Sayeed was driving, he won the argument. He realized that he would have to contain his anger in front of Tariq, and indeed, be careful about what else he said to the goon squad. Defiance was a fatal error in Iran and they would surely report this argument completely. The only information Lee could gain from the rapid exchange was the repeated name "Tariq" and the Persian variation for "student visa."

The car finally cleared the congested shopping area and was able to resume normal speed. It soon entered one of the nicer neighborhoods with generous lawns groomed by professional landscaping. The elegant homes lining the street were tastefully decorated for the season. The peaceful scene contrasted sharply with the hot tempers in the car. Amanda was poised for any signal from Lee, and reasoned that he would not make a move as long as she was flanked by the goons, one of which wore a suicide bomb. As the car slowed to pull into a driveway, all passengers braced themselves for action. Lee immediately spotted the agency team Mike had detailed for surveillance. The fake Dominion Power and Light van was hard to miss.

"Mr. Fine Federal Agent, you stay seated until I open your door." The menacing voice of the bomber began directing. "Sayeed, get out of the car and be ready to cover the agent with his own gun." The goon in green on Amanda's right passed Lee's gun to the driver. The directions continued, "While I get the agent out of the car, you get the woman out and take her inside. And you, Miss American Shopper, do as you are told." The goon to Amanda's right nodded and slapped his pockets confirming their contents.

Sayeed exited the car and circled the front to stand guard, pointing the gun at Lee. Both back doors opened as the goons stood from the car. While both men's backs were toward her, Amanda pivoted to her left, raised both feet and aimed them at the goon with the vest. Her kick was well-timed, and both feet hit his hips and pushed him into the mud beside the driveway. This gave Lee the distraction he needed as he sprang from the car like a bullet, knocking his gun from Sayeed's hand with the door, and pouncing on the bomber while he was still off balance.

The goon in green looked into the car just in time to see her kick and retaliated swiftly. He pulled a stun gun from his right pocket and wrapped his left arm around Amanda's throat. He snugged her tightly against him, as he held the stun gun against her neck for several seconds despite her frantic struggles. The convulsive twitching insured her complete submission and he pulled her to the edge of the car seat and straightened to assess the chaos outside of the car. "Sayeed, over here. Quickly, man." Since the inept student had lost the weapon, perhaps he could be entrusted with the woman. "Pick her up and carry her inside. Send out reinforcements." A brawl on the front lawn would not be unnoticed. As he dumped Amanda into Sayeed's arms, he could see workmen in green coveralls already coming from the electric company's van. He cursed and spat.

Meanwhile, Lee was furiously intent on preventing the bomber from activating the charges on the vest. Kicking and spinning, punching and grappling, the fight ranged this way and that across the lawn. Racing toward the pair, the second goon pulled a taser unit from his left pocket. With this device, he could shoot the electrodes from a short distance,and not make contact himself. Nearing the frenzied duo, the goon stopped to steady himself for the shot, and saw his companion collapse from a decisive chop to the base of his skull. He shot the taser from about six feet away. He had failed to penetrate the agent's skin, but the probes were securely embedded in the back of his thick jacket. The goon kept the trigger pressed to inflict a maximum level of disability. He was viciously satisfied to have a Russian unit since it was more powerful than the American made models. The writhing agent was satisfactorily incapacitated and the electrical workers were speeding across the lawn. The goon ripped the probes from the taser unit, and turned his attention to a strategic retreat. He gripped his companion under the arms and started dragging him towards the house.

Sayeed had successfully carried Amanda into the house, shouting for help as soon as he opened the door. He laid her on a couch in the front room and then shouted again and again, trying to gain the needed reinforcements. Tariq finally appeared at the top of the stairs, irritated at such intrusive behavior from a soldier already under his displeasure. In the time it took Sayeed to communicate the situation outside, the two goons had made it up the steps to the porch and nearly fell into the house as Tariq yanked the door open. The old man emerged from the house, shaking in fury. Abernathy and Carter reached Lee who was lying dazed on the lawn. Carter yanked the electrodes out of Lee's jacket and carefully stowed them for lab analysis. Abernathy picked up Lee's gun and returned it to its holster. Tariq shook his fist impotently at the backs of the departing electrical company men as they supported the weakened agent between them. He barely noticed as Sayeed jogged out to the car and returned carrying two cardboard tubes.

Lee could barely support half his weight, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. With the scant amount of air available, he kept saying, "A-man-da. Must get A-man-da."

Abernathy, supporting Lee's left side answered soothingly, "Yes, Scarecrow, you got a man down. You did your job. A man's down." They gently eased Lee into the back of the van.

With his first full breath he exploded, "Dammit, Abernathy. You left Amanda to those thugs! We have to get her out of there."

The light dawned for the Middle East agent, "Oh, you meant Mrs. King! I forgot her name was _Amanda_. Why was the housewife caught up in this anyway? And where did you come from?"

"I don't have time to explain now. Get Billy on the phone." Lee accepted some water from Carter, swishing it in his mouth to rid himself of the lingering effects of adrenaline on his taste buds.

"Billy, I can't go into details now, but we have a solid lead on the electrical grid attack. We need a search warrant right away. And tell Leatherneck we need..." Lee paused. His brain would not process the words he needed and he shuffled quickly through his available vocabulary. "Tell him we need Amanda's jewelry. He'll know what you want. Abernathy can give you the address and particulars for the warrant. And we probably need a bomb squad. One of their guys was wired to explode." Lee handed the phone to Abernathy and slumped against the wall of the van. His sluggish mind was churning at half-speed and the minor disability was using precious seconds. As Abernathy hung up the phone, Lee began twisting to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket.

He thrust a business card at the airheaded agent. "Dial this number and ask for Frank, then hand me the phone." Lee could feel his mind recovering, but his vision was still too blurry to read the small print to accurately place the call. Abernathy handed him the phone and Lee was ready. "I'm trying to find Fritz and the code word is 'spiderman.' I have a job for him to do... That's great! Yeah, I'll hold."

Lee sighed in relief. The cat burglar may not be trustworthy, but at least Lee wouldn't have to track him down this time. Based on the background noise over the phone, the bar was having a jolly celebration. This would be a good test for the man. Getting into that building to get Amanda out would be tricky, but exposing its secrets to the cat burglar wouldn't endanger national security.

"Fritz, Lee Stetson. I need your talents right now. How fast can you meet me at Rock Creek Park?" The men agreed on a meeting place and time then Lee hung up the phone. He swallowed another cup of water, and rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tense muscles. He could feel the ache of the electric shock in every muscle. Abernathy called the Agency requesting a replacement surveillance team, since their cover had been blown. The three agents waited silently for the next team (a fake phone company van), and then drove the few miles to the rendezvous in the park.

* * *

 **Rock Creek Park**

While Abernathy and Carter returned the utility van to the Agency, Lee limped gingerly to the picnic table for the meeting. His thigh ached and he guessed he must have landed on a rock at some point. His calf muscles barely functioned. Fritz emerged from a cluster of bushes and warily moved toward the agent.

"How can I help you, my friend?"

"My partner is being held in a particular house, and I need access to it immediately to get her out."

"You mean, the lady? Amanda?"

"That's right. Mrs. King has been taken hostage and your first job for us is to figure out how to get me _in_ so I can get her _out_."

"Wait a minute, Lee. I don't just wander around neighborhoods and storm a house on a whim. It takes hours, maybe days, of careful study and planning. I need blueprints and security details. I need to know the habits of the household and a probable time when the house will be most vulnerable. And I've never planned a rescue mission before." The cat burglar was beginning to wonder if his retirement plans had been too ambitious and if he had engineered a no-win situation for himself. He rubbed roughly at his chin and jaw.

"I'll handle the rescue, but damn it, man, I have to get inside."

"Where's the house? Maybe I can give you some pointers if we give it a look over. There's always a way to score, Lee."

As Lee described the house, neighborhood and street, Fritz's face transformed. "If this is the house I think it is, you are in luck, my friend. I was studying a very similar house before its owners left the country mid-summer. I figured the wife took her jewels with her, and I put my plans on hold until they return. If it's the same house, I'll be glad to assist you."

The two men walked back to Fritz's car and Lee was pleased that his muscles had fully recovered. That taser had packed a stronger punch that the one he had experienced during training. He grimaced when he saw the fake phone company truck parked near the house. It was a frequent professional debate whether it was best to keep surveillance in an intimidating manner or a discreet manner. When a hostage is involved, Lee was convinced it was better to be discreet. He was afraid the obvious surveillance team would endanger Amanda, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

* * *

 **Outside the elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

To his relief, Tariq's house was the one Fritz had planned to rob and the cat burglar was eager to share his knowledge. They parked around the corner from the phone company van, while planning Lee's infiltration of the house. Fritz refreshed his memory by using some binoculars, then handed them to Lee. The lanky man pointed and gestured as he described the route he had planned to take.

"From this angle, you can see the oak tree in the neighboring yard that spreads over the brick wall. I planned to visit the house in summer to use the leaves to cover my approach. During December, you lose that advantage, but the branch is sturdy enough to get you close to the garage roof. You're about my height, so you should have no problem edging out on the branch far enough to swing or jump to the roof. From the far side of the garage roof, you have to reach high to grip the edge of the security bars on the second story windows. Depending on your 'hand-over-hand' strength in climbing, you can work your way up the bars to stand on their top edge. Lucky for us, they're level along the top, not spiked. Then, comes the tricky part. You have to reach away from the house to grip the overhanging eaves and hang by your hands from the edge of the roof. There are no gutters, but you do want to wear some sturdy work gloves with some traction to give yourself a better grip. You then inch yourself to the right, until your legs can reach the roof of that first dormer. From the dormer roof, that tiny row of attic windows should be a cinch to open. According to the schematics for the security system, the owners didn't bother wiring the attic windows." The burglar shrugged his disdain. The route was straight-forward and even an amateur could follow instructions. It's not like Lee had to disable the alarm system or set-up his own cables to rappel into the premises.

Fritz continued, "There are no dogs in neighboring yards, or at least there weren't when I was studying the place. You are visible from the street only while crossing the garage roof and after that only visible through the branches to the backdoor neighbors. With any luck, they'll be too busy with Christmas Eve festivities to be looking out their windows. Luckily, this house doesn't have any exterior Christmas lights that would complicate the job, or make you more visible."

Lee eyed the house through the binoculars with concern. The route seemed doable, but he would have liked more accurate information. Would anyone hear him landing on the roof of the garage? How sturdy were the security bars? And given the aches that followed electric shock, was he in any condition to dangle from a roof? He shook his head quickly to banish the doubts. Amanda needed him and he would do whatever it takes to rescue her.

After a short silence, Fritz resumed, "Of course, that only gets you in the house. There is a full basement below ground, so that gives you four levels where your partner might be held. I can't help you find her once you get in."

"Thank you for responding so promptly and giving it your best shot. If this works, we'll set you up as a civilian contractor with a negotiated fee for each assist. I'll be in touch." The two men shook hands, and Lee left the car and strode briskly around the corner and knocked on the door of the van.

To his satisfaction, Billy opened the back door and the two men settled down to complete the plans.

"I have the 'jewelry' with the monitor and the warrants," Billy began as he handed the monitoring devices to Lee. "Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get a search warrant at 4:00 on Christmas Eve? Not to mention how few agents were available who are fluent in Persian _and_ sober! I hope this lead is as solid as you think it is. How do you want to play this?"

Lee explained the day's events as briefly as possible. The whole story could wait until the debriefing, but Billy needed to know the urgency of the situation and the type of evidence to look for in the house. Billy's team would be thorough examining communication devices, financial reports, and files, while also looking for the power company plans, explosives, weaponry, and other types of evidence. His plan was to carry the jewelry with him and alert the team when he found Amanda. Upon that signal, Billy could demand entry to the house, search warrant in hand. Using the distraction of the search party, Lee could smuggle Amanda out safely. If the residents panicked and tried to harm Amanda when Billy demanded entry, Lee would be there to thwart their intentions. He hoped that they had underestimated her, and considered her merely a busy shopper who had been kidnapped by mistake. He reviewed the minutes in the car, and judged that the thugs had no reason to assume she and Lee knew each other. He left the van and began a circuitous route to the base of the oak tree to begin his ascent.

By this time it was 5:00 and the sun had set. The low cloud cover decreased visibility even further and that worked to his advantage. There was still light to see what he needed to do and climbing the tree was no problem. As he edged out on the branch, he appreciated the slight weight difference between himself and Fritz. His landing on the garage roof was heavier than he would have liked, and he listened for several tense moments for any sign that someone had heard him. Keeping his head low, he scrambled up and over the roof towards the house. The security bars held firm and, as Lee worked his way up the bars, he was able to see into the lit room. From the window, he couldn't see anyone. He was crouched in full view of the window, with his hands on the top of the bars and his feet on their bottom edge when someone suddenly stepped into view from the edge of the room. She slid the window open.

"Lee," his partner exclaimed happily. "I knew you'd find me."

"Amanda, are you okay?" Lee's relief was evident in his grin.

"Yes, except for the ache in my muscles from electric shock. How are you going to get in? Or, how am I supposed to get out?"

"Unfortunately, the bars are firmly attached, so we can't get past them. I'm on my way up to the top windows and I'll make my way back down to get you."

"They've locked me in here with a bar across the door, but no one's been up to check on me in the last hour. They're yelling loud enough that they won't hear you unless you're really noisy." Now that she mentioned it, he was aware that he could hear their hot disagreement.

"You be ready. I'll be with you soon." Reinvigorated by the conversation, Lee stood confidently on the upper rail, and pressed his hands on the underside of the eaves. He walked his hands out to the edge and gripped the edge firmly. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his legs to swing free from the iron bars. He was glad to have the gloves for the extra traction. It took several nerve-racking minutes to inch his way to the dormer roof. As Fritz had predicted, the dormer roof was a good platform and the high windows into the original servant's quarters were a cinch to open. After squeezing through the opened window, he pulled his gun from its holster and released the safety. He glanced casually through the upper floor as he hurried toward the stairs. The second floor of the house had noticeably better carpet and he moved soundlessly down the hall to the last door and lifted the bar.

* * *

 **In the elegant mansion in Cleveland Park**

He stepped into the room, and hugged her close in relief. "Whatever possessed you to pick a fight with a suicide bomber? He could have killed us all in one second." Remembering his fear for her in that moment made his voice sharper than it should have been.

She pulled back a little to look into his eyes as she explained. "I figured suicide bombers target public places and a maximum number of victims. They rarely explode their own homes, Lee. The gas and oil in the car plus the bomber's explosives would have caused significant damage to the house. Besides, I figured all you needed was a distraction and you'd take care of everything. And, I was right." This last sentence was spoken with two tiny thumps on his chest and the impish grin that he could never resist.

He tightened the hug again and sighed his agreement. "We'll call Billy to get started with the warrant, but first, what can you tell me about the layout of the house?"

"I was disoriented when they first brought me in, but I had a few minutes downstairs to get my bearings. I was in a small parlor to the right of the foyer and there was another small room beside it, more like an office. It sounded to me like there was a larger room on that side of the house in the back, and that's where all the shouting is being done. I saw five men – the young man who was the driver, the two goons who grabbed me, an old man and a fifth man who seems in charge of the house. To the left of the foyer, was a large dining room and probably the kitchen near the back of the house. Up here, I saw one meeting room, but most of the doors were closed. The main staircase is back that way, but just beyond this room, is a stairway leading to the kitchen. The fragrance of their dinner was wafting up the stairwell when they brought me in here."

"Good observations, Amanda. That's all helpful. Anything else?"

"No, only... well...I'm glad you're here." She smiled and melted closer to him in relief.

"Yeah," he breathed softly, "I'm glad I'm here, too." His eyes dropped to her lips, and he slid his tongue along his lower lip as his arms tightened around her waist.

A muffled voice sounded from Lee's zippered chest pocket on his jacket, "If you're finished with the preliminaries, maybe we could get on with this. Some of us have plans for Christmas Eve." They sprang apart and grinned sheepishly at each other.

"Oh, yes sir, Mr. Melrose. We're ready whenever you are," Amanda responded, while Lee rolled his eyes in chagrin for having forgotten that the devices were active.

"Yeah, Billy. We're ready. Serve the warrant. Amanda, we don't want to get caught in this room where they could trap us when they panic, so let's get moving. Stay close to me. If they want to use you as a hostage, they will be sorely disappointed. Billy, we'll take the back stairs into the kitchen and cover the back of the house."

* * *

The front stairs curved elegantly up from the foyer, but the back stairs were serviceable, with a landing halfway down and a switchback. Lee went first, craning his head over the railing to assess the territory. Amanda kept one hand on Lee's shoulder but hugged the wall to stay out of any possible fire. When he was halfway down the top section of stairs, Lee could see that the bottom of the stairs ended in a hallway opposite a door into the kitchen. Occasional shadows indicated someone moving in there. As he hesitated, he heard pounding from the front door and Billy's bellow demanding entry. The man in the kitchen rushed through the doorway and down the hall to join the other men without looking up at the stairs. Lee and Amanda hurried down the stairs and along the hallway to prevent anyone from escaping the house or destroying evidence.

They heard one raised voice shouting commands in Persian. This was not the babble of mindless panic, but the authority of strategic defense. Lee checked his gun again to be sure he was ready, and considered how to keep Amanda out of harm's way. Billy demanded entry again, and the meeting broke up with a clatter of chairs and scattered footsteps as the men raced to complete their assignments.

Lee took another few steps and saw an alcove leading to a back door. He tugged Amanda into the small space and took his position at its opening. Peeking around the door frame, he saw two men hurrying along the hall towards them: the man from the kitchen and the bomb-wearing goon. Both held pistols. He turned to tell Amanda to slip out the back door, but she wasn't where he expected her to be. She was crouched low, holding the stringy part of a mop firmly under her arm with the long stick ready to thrust toward the hall. With shrewd timing, she threw herself full-length on the floor extending the mop beyond the doorway and across the hall. The mop was wrenched loose from her grip, but it did the job. The cook landed hard on the floor and the bomber narrowly avoided the same fate. Amanda scrambled back, allowing Lee room to maneuver.

Lee swung upward with his gun and caught the second man hard under his jaw sending him reeling onto his back. The cook rolled to a sitting position and aimed his pistol at Lee. Out of the corner of his eye, Lee saw the bright blue square of a snow shovel jab hard at the gun and spoil the aim. He kicked the cook against the side of his head, and was satisfied to see his adversary collapse. The bomber was the one that worried him, and Lee could focus exclusively on that problem now. He moved into the hall where the bomber was clambering to his feet. Lee gripped the man's shoulders, preventing him from rising, and kneed him firmly in the nose. As the man howled in rage, Lee used a ridge chop against the back of his head to knock him out for the second time today.

Having restored calm to the back hall, he turned to check on Amanda. She had been crouching in the corner, staying out of the way, and now stood at his approach. He held her lightly by both elbows and looked her over anxiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sure. My shoulder might be a little sore from that mop trick, but I'm fine." She rocked on the balls of her feet as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. "What about the other three men?"

Lee shook his head in appreciation and amazement at her resilience and with a breath of laughter said, "Let's secure these two, then go find out, partner." He handed her a pair of handcuffs and used the other himself, deliberately handling the bomber more roughly than strictly necessary.

Gun still at the ready, Lee continued down the hall to the meeting room and found Billy with a turbaned old man who was raging vehemently in Persian. Lee nodded once at Billy and continued past the room to the small office where the two cardboard tubes lay on the desk and Abernathy was systematically examining the files in the desk.

Lee picked up the larger tube and removed the blueprints. He peeled back the edge of the final page to read the title "Dominion Power and Light" and nodded in satisfaction. Giving Amanda a sly grin and a wink, he laid the blueprints on the desk and nudged them with his finger. The heavy papers unrolled knocking desk paraphernalia into the open file drawers where Abernathy was working, and causing the empty tube to clatter to the floor. In the resulting flurry to set things right, Lee secreted the small tube with Jamie's poster up the sleeve of his jacket. Grabbing Amanda's hand, and the set of car keys to the Agency car that Abernathy had arrived in, Lee hustled Amanda out the door and down the steps.

"We'll have to be debriefed, but let's get you back to your car. I'll go back to the Agency to handle the preliminary reports and convince Billy to delay your debriefing until Thursday."

"Poor Abernathy. Did you have to steal the poster? Couldn't we have just asked politely and not cause all that mess?"

"No. Abernathy would have argued for days and we don't have time for that. You can bring the empty tube back on Thursday and we'll slip it into the evidence then. If we hurry back to the mall to get your car, you won't be too late for dinner, will you?"

"I was supposed to make the scalloped potatoes, and depending on how much Mother got done without me, I might be getting home just in time to carve the goose. Let's go." He handed her the poster and opened the car door for her. "Since we didn't get to exchange gifts this afternoon, I suppose I'll just have to come see you late afternoon on Christmas Day. Would that be okay?" The smug grin signaled that she was confident of her welcome.

"I can't think of anything that would be more 'okay' than that." He smiled in return and closed the door hurrying around the front of the car to return to the mall.


	8. Christmas Day

**Wednesday, December 25**

 **Lee's Apartment**

The King household was filled with exuberant good cheer on Christmas Day. Joe came over after breakfast to open gifts with the boys, and a second large feast was spread for lunch. By mid-afternoon, the uproar had subsided and the boys had scurried out to compare gifts and try out new games with friends. Dotty had retreated to her bedroom, and Joe had left only when Amanda hinted that she might like a nap, too.

Alone at last, Amanda assembled a generous plate of Christmas dinner and another heaping plate of holiday sweets for Lee. Her heartbeat quickened in anticipation of time alone with Lee. Arriving at his apartment, she was touched that he had taken the trouble to provide hors d'oeuvres – Camembert cheese, crackers, some nuts and olives, along with the guacamole and chips – and his Dom Perignon champagne.

"You don't look any worse for last night's adventures. How do you feel?" Lee savored the gleam in her eyes and the tingle of delight he felt whenever he looked at her. She was wearing a new cobalt blue sweater and her cheeks and nose were pinched red by the cold.

"I took a couple of aspirin this morning, and stretched out most of the soreness during all of the activity this morning. How about you? And how was work?" Her eyes were busy assessing his well being. His face was relaxed and the arm muscles under her hand were at ease. He was wearing a burgundy chamois shirt with black jeans. He moved easily as he took her coat and opened the closet.

"Good. It looks like we rounded up the whole operation for 'Candle Snuffer' – the candle snuffing part, anyway. Yesterday's driver was in charge of obtaining the power company details and planning where to place the explosives. It will take a few days to wrap up all of the groups assigned to the various attacks. Mike's unit is handling most of that, since much of the data is in Persian.'

They eased into each other's presence as she made herself at home. She put Lee's dinner in the refrigerator and left the desserts on the counter. "How was the family today?" Lee's voice floated into the kitchen as he hung her coat and opened the champagne.

She placed a festive package of green paper and gold cord on his coffee table beside the one in sparkly gold paper that was already there. "They're fine. Having Joe home will take some adjustment. He didn't realize that his little boys have grown into fine young men. He bought them Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas that were sized according to their ages. They are wearing teen sizes now, so thankfully, the kiddie pj's didn't fit and I can take them back. He also remembered my writing to him years ago about how much they enjoyed playing 'Chutes and Ladders' and bought one for them to keep at his place. I'll have to convince him to take it back and get something more challenging." She shook her head ruefully at Joe's mistakes and smiled at Lee to share the joke. Lee didn't know much about parenting, but even he knew the boys were too old for cartoon characters and simple board games.

She was so eager for him to open her gift, but she didn't want to seem "grabby" about opening his to her. He solved the problem for her as he snaked an arm around her waist and ushered her to the couch.

"I've been wanting to give you this for nearly a month. Let's open our presents first." His smile was irresistible. Or, rather, HE was irresistible. She sat in the corner of the couch and he settled snugly against her.

She chuckled, "Okay, but you have to open yours first." A record album is hard to disguise as a gift, but Lee tore off the wrapping energetically to see which album she had bought. The tickets taped to the front were a big surprise and a huge hit.

"Amanda, this is great! Thank you. Don't tell the Russians that we have tickets and maybe they won't get us into any mischief that will prevent us from going. What a terrific gift!"

Amanda opened her package more decorously but no less readily. She was right, it was another scarf, but not one of the standard ones he gave everyone else. She lifted it from the tissue paper and spread it wide, with a quiet "oooh". It was made of softest cashmere. It was a light cream color, with navy blue nautical designs around the edge and an anchor in the center. "Oh, Lee," she cooed in delight.

He took it from her and swung it over her head allowing it to float down around her shoulders. As he snugged it close to her neck, she lifted her curls out from under the luxurious fabric. He cupped her cheek with his right hand and caressed it with his thumb.

His throat was dry at the sight, and he was a little breathless as he explained. "I... uh... I saw this just after we moved the Mata Hari back to her berth. Those days on the boat were... magical." He shook his head in wonder, thinking of their time together. "I kept remembering how you looked that first night on board. Your curls shimmered in the candlelight where they lay all spread out on top of the blanket and your eyes sparkled in the glow." His voice was little more than a sigh as he finished and he tilted her chin up just a little. His left arm around her shoulder pulled her closer and he bent his head as she licked her lips. The phone rang, shattering the moment.

With a grimace of disappointment, he stretched across the back of the sofa for the phone. "Stetson... Yeah, that _is_ odd. Can you still see the van? I'll meet you there." He hung up and turned to Amanda. "Fritz saw something we might need to check out. Do you want to come, or do you need to get home?"

Amanda's face lit with the call to adventure. "You need someone to watch your back. Let's go."

* * *

 **Small neighborhood in D.C.**

Several minutes later, the agents arrived at a convenience store and pulled in beside a black Ford Escort. It was the only store open on the block and there was a steady trickle of activity as people remembered one last thing they needed to buy. Lee and Amanda slipped discretely into the back seat of the neighboring car.

"Good to see you, Mrs. King."

"Good to see you, Fritz. Thanks for your help last night."

"You're welcome. How was the climb, Lee?"

"You gave good directions. We'll work out a deal and make it official. Your assistance was right on. What's happening here?"

"Like I told you, I was driving through the neighborhood wondering about the results of your adventures last night, when I noticed a delivery van pulling into the driveway of the house. It was one of those brown vans you see everywhere and the driver jumped down and approached the house. The uniform looked right and the clip board looked right, but there wasn't a logo on the delivery truck and I don't think those places make deliveries on Christmas Day. When no one answered the door, the driver got back in the van and drove to that blue house just down the street. I can see about a quarter of the van in the driveway."

It was a tidy neighborhood of smaller homes. There were few large trees and minimal landscaping. Many homes displayed colored lights and outdoor decorations, with Christmas trees visible in many picture windows. A few homes were surrounded by cars, indicating festive gatherings inside, but there was little activity on the street or in the yards.

"Yeah, I see it. It's been there how long now?"

"I watched it about 5 minutes before I called you to be sure it wasn't another fake house call. I'd guess it's been 10 minutes or so."

"Good eye, Fritz. We should have had someone still on surveillance at that house. Thanks for calling. We'll take it from here."

Fritz started the car as the two agents exited the vehicle. "Always a pleasure to serve our government," he said with only a shadow of irony on his rugged face.

* * *

Amanda and Lee got back in the 'vette and Lee drove down the street one block behind the blue house. Using a yellow house as cover, they surveyed the area. Lee wanted to get more information before he called in a team. It wasn't illegal to impersonate a delivery man.

As they watched, a man in a brown uniform and jacket exited from the driver's door of the van carrying a small bundle. He wore a brown knit cap, and a tidy pony-tail of black and gray curly hair hung down the center of his back. He ducked into the house and quickly emerged again without the bundle, and re-entered the van. After several moments, he emerged from the van again with another bundle. He took it into the house and returned to the van almost immediately.

Lee passed the binoculars to Amanda and said, "Mike's unit has done an impressive job of tracking the money and identifying associates in 'Candle Snuffer.' I spent the day reviewing their files and photos. This is Ahmad Jalali, an Iranian weapons expert. There isn't enough evidence to implicate him at this point, but I'm interested that he went to Tariq's house today."

"Mike did say that Tariq always had several irons in the fire, and was a fanatic about compartmentalization. Maybe Jalali is involved in something else that we need to know about and stop. What do you suppose he's unloading from the truck?"

"We could speculate all day, but there's only one way to find out, partner." Lee's inviting grin was met with Amanda's nod of acceptance, and they watched for Jalali to return to his work in the van.

Lee and Amanda moved quickly and were out of the car and pressed closely against the yellow house before the man emerged from the van. The next time he entered the van, the agents sprinted through the back yards of the two houses and crouched low on the passenger side of the van. As he exited the van again, Lee quickly peeked in through the window.

Returning to Amanda, he whispered urgently, "Get to the car and call for back-up. This guy has a rocket launcher in the back of that van and he is disassembling it and moving it to the house. It will take him a while to do it, but we don't want him to sneak away while our backs are turned."

"No way, Lee. As soon as I'm gone, you'll apprehend the suspect by yourself. I'm not leaving." Her adamant refusal wasn't softened by a smile or a shrug or even a blink.

Lee didn't waste time arguing. "Well, try not to get hurt or kidnapped, okay?" His look removed the sting from his words, and Amanda smiled wryly and nodded. He slid his gun from its holster and released the safety. The van shifted as the man stepped inside yet again. Lee waited until he stepped out of the van again, and then dashed into the yard commanding, "Freeze, federal agent."

Jalali threw the bundle at Lee's head, but the agent was poised for that possibility. Lee easily dodged the projectile and leaped at Jalali, striking him hard on the right side of his neck where it meets the shoulder with both fists joined as one around his gun. Jalali fell to his left side, landing heavily on the ground. Lee landed off-balance but managed to stay on his feet. He grabbed Jalali's jacket zipper in a tight grip with his right hand and hauled the man upright. His left hand held the gun steady under the captive's chin. With contempt distorting the muscles of his face, Ahmad Jalali spit a thick wad of saliva straight into Lee Stetson's face.

For a micro-second, Lee was in shock. Then rage flooded his body at the insult. His face flushed crimson and the veins in his neck and his temples distended. The muscles in his jaw bunched as he clenched his teeth and the muscles in his arms tightened so hard that his hands trembled. A cascade of images flickered through his mind – police brutality of every variety: fire hoses, attack dogs, tear gas, kicking, throttling necks. He could imagine the satisfaction of systematically breaking every one of Jalali's facial bones, or stomping his hands until the bones were crushed. The gun in his hand could kill slowly as well as quickly, if he chose torment over death. The fury roared in his ears until one small word broke through.

"Lee." That's all. Just his name. Spoken in a quiet but urgent call. Her small hand on his back, and his name from her mouth, called him back to sanity, like an anchor in a storm.

He took a deep shuddering breath and then another. The trembling in his arms diminished, and his blazing face cooled. Lee released his grip on the jacket and took a step back, shifting the aim of the gun from the captive's head to his heart. He removed the handcuffs from his pocket and held them out to his partner, then he wiped the dripping fluid from his face. She restrained Jalali's hands behind his back and returned to Lee's side. "On your face." The rough command was clumsily obeyed. Without his hands to steady him, Jalali knelt and fell to his right, rolling to his stomach on the cold ground. He kept his bitter eyes on the American agent at all times.

"Amanda, go in the house and make that call."

"Will you be alright out here without me?" The question held multiple meanings and he answered them all in a word.

"Yes."

He heard the squeak of the door as she opened it and the firm thud as she closed it. He was sure that she would be watching through a window, and that added strength to his resolve. Lee's aim never wavered and he icily retreated into professional calm.

The door squeaked again as she opened it. She handed him a damp paper towel for his face, and said, "A team's on its way. The place looks like an arsenal; you don't want to take him inside."

There was no further conversation or movement until the team arrived to take custody and begin the investigation on the house and delivery truck. As Lee bent to open Amanda's car door, he abruptly stopped and straightened. He ran both hands down her arms until he was holding both of her hands in his. "Amanda...," he looked away and cleared his throat. He tried again, "I..." He shook his head, still engaged in reining in the storm surge of emotions. "Thank you. I've never been _so close_ to losing control. You were terrific. Really, thanks." By the end of the short speech, he was able to look her in the eyes again, and let her see the extent of his trauma.

"That's what partners are for, Lee. They help one another - no matter what the danger is." She smiled warmly into his eyes and gave his hands a little shake for emphasis.

"Let's get you home before your Christmas gets any more exciting."

They got in the car, and as he pulled away from the curb she said, "He has a map of D.C. that's been refolded to display a certain section which contains the Israeli Embassy. Jamie's class just had an assignment to do a report on a 'Name in the News.' He wrote about the Ayatollah Khomeini. The Ayatollah calls the United States 'The Great Satan' and he calls Israel 'The Little Satan.' Do you suppose Jalali planned to use that rocket launcher on the Embassy?"


	9. New Year's Eve

**Tuesday, December 31**

 **New's Year Eve Gala**

Lee had tried every argument he could use to get out of security detail for New's Year Eve. The week between Christmas and New Year's had been grueling. With Amanda's sons out of school for the week, he hadn't enjoyed any time alone with his partner since Christmas Day. He desperately wanted to sneak away for a private evening with her, away from watching eyes and ears. Billy turned a deaf ear and a cold shoulder to his every plea. There were too many gala events to allow anyone a night off. Besides, if they had overlooked even one detail, the evening could still end in disaster and he wanted all of his agents ready for action.

The handsome agent in the black tuxedo and black bow tie had to console himself with the knowledge that the loveliest lady at the ball was his. Amanda wore the white dress that looked like it was made from angel's wings. The first time he had seen her in it, he was too absorbed in scheming with Emily Farnsworth to have noticed Amanda's appearance. Tonight was quite different. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

As the band finished the song, the flow on the dance floor halted and everyone turned to face the emcee. The countdown began towards midnight, and waiting attendants began unwinding the strings that would release the net of balloons from the ceiling. Around the room, all agents stiffened on alert. Was there some portion of "Candle Snuffer" that they had failed to extinguish? Were there additional schemes against the Israeli Embassy which they hadn't uncovered? If so, the failure would soon be apparent.

The crowd counted with enthusiasm "...3...2...1. Happy New Year!" There was applause and cheers, kisses and hugs, and still the agents did not relax their vigil. Balloons floated gently from the ceiling and bumped along the floor or were batted from hand to hand around the room. After a tense minute, then two, looks were exchanged from agent to agent acknowledging the consensus that all was well. The electrical grid continued to operate and there were no sounds of explosions or sirens from the streets. Belated 'Happy New Year' wishes were telegraphed by a second round of eye contact.

Lee guided Amanda behind a particularly dense cluster of foliage that he had marked for a strategic retreat earlier in the evening. Without a word, he pulled her into his embrace and looked into her eyes, allowing his passion for her to show clearly on his face. She returned his embrace and his passionate look with one of her own, and smiled slightly in anticipation and welcome. Lee was almost mesmerized by her beauty and his intense feelings towards her. As if in a dream, his head moved forward so slowly to capture her waiting lips.

A hand clapped his shoulder and a loud voice exclaimed, "Looks like all is calm and all is bright, Stetson. We did it, pal. We stopped 'em in their tracks. No lights out for D.C. this year." Abernathy's poorly timed exuberance startled the couple, but Lee responded with lightning reflexes. He turned smoothly in feigned surprise and stepped firmly on the annoying agent's foot.

As Amanda swept around Lee to steady and commiserate with the injured agent, she shot a look of amused reproach towards Lee. She assisted Abernathy towards a nearby seat and returned her attention to Lee. Returning to Lee in a flutter of angel's wings, she put her hand tenderly over his racing heart, and said in a husky voice for his ears alone, "All is very bright, indeed. Happy New Year, Lee."

 **THE END**

Author's notes:

1 - This story provides an introduction to Fritz the Cat who appears in "Bad Timing" (February 6, 1987) as an established contact who already knows Lee and Amanda and TP. While writing a filler for "Bad Timing" (my story "Dressing for Success"), I began wondering how a cat burglar would become an Agency resource. Now we know. ;)

2 - It also introduces Abernathy who caused Francine to be captured by the KGB while she should have been enjoying her vacation in "Wrong Number" (March 3, 1986). I think Lee encouraged Abernathy's removal from D.C. and might have been responsible for sending him back into the field rather permanently.

3 - Other writers have used other names for Leatherneck. I wanted to honor Billy Ray Sharkey (the actor who played this engaging character) by naming Leatherneck after him.

4 - A rolling blackout by power grid failure was much more possible in the 80's than with the current technology. Today's sabotage attempts against the power grid are typically cyber attacks instead of explosives.

5 - The events in the Prologue are historically accurate, except for the last two paragraphs. To me, the hardest part of writing these stories is thinking up threats to national security and creating believable villains. I prefer using real events to shape my stories rather than "making it up from scratch."


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